


Stagnant Decay

by Stripesthecoon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A bit minor, Alternate Universe - Dusttale, Can get a bit uncomfortable, Comfort, Crazy moments, Everybody haaaaates Saaaans, Family, Gen, Get ready for angst, Get ready for love, Hurt, Just perfectly normal brotherly love, Lots of Touching, Mental Illness, Mistaken Identity, Murder, NO FONTCEST, Obsession, On the surface, One hell of a fight scene coming up, Other characters make appearances - Freeform, Papy's a naive little cinnamon roll, Papyrus does adopt a Sans though, Really creepy Dust, Sensory Deprivation, Undyne's still a Royal Guard in this, get ready for tears, tender moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stripesthecoon/pseuds/Stripesthecoon
Summary: Sans and Papyrus live a happy life on the surface and everything seems to be going fairly well for them. However, Sans is having a bit of trouble keeping his name clean when something that looks, walks, and talks like him keeps getting him into trouble with frequent killings around town. Meanwhile, Papyrus begins to keep secrets when he finds something he really shouldn’t have. Something that could get the both of them killed at any moment. But you know Papyrus. He could never deliberately get rid of something that needs his help.





	1. Something's Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, my first Undertale chapter story. This chapter is to just fill you in for a few things. It'll pick up later. If you wanna talk or make suggestions, I have a Tumblr of the same name: stripesthecoon. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Every so often, Sans would forget something. It was occasional, but it still happened. It wasn’t that he never want to remember anything; in fact, he would prefer to not to remember anything at all. But with that all too familiar cloudiness swarming his skull, he couldn’t help the way he was.

Luckily for him, Papyrus was always there to help him remember. No matter what it was or the time of day, even when he thought he was alone, Paps seemed to be just a couple steps away to shake him back into reality. Sometimes he would forget where the house was. Papyrus always showed him the way. His brother was always so helpful. Sometimes he would forget what section of the Underground he was in. Papyrus would pointed out the noticeable features of the landscape, such as the snow or lava. His brother was always there for him. Sometimes he would forget to eat. Papyrus would make sure he didn’t fall. How did deserve his brother? Sometimes he would forget what happened. Papyrus didn’t let him forget. He never let Sans forget. But that was okay. He still loved his brother will all his soul. 

And yet, sometimes, he just forgot. He blamed it on the stagnant state of the world around him. Papyrus never blamed anyone.

* * *

“Sans! Can you lend a hand to me?” Papyrus called from the kitchen, heaving a few bags of groceries onto the kitchen table, a few dastardly cans slipping out to hit the floor. A quick sigh rocked his frame as he surveyed the bagged foods before getting to picking up some of the fallen goods. On cue to his question, he heard something shift around in the living room on the couch his brother could usually be found at.  
  
“Sure thing, bro,” came the deeper, slower drawl Sans was known for. “Just be sure you give it back.”  
  
There was a faint pop sound as Papyrus began to process Sans’ words, only to be interrupted when something flew from the other room and clattered onto the floor beside him. He blinked in surprise and gazed down at the detached hand that had landed; it was smaller than his own and slightly thicker in each individual bone. His sockets widened some in surprise and he was quickly developing that familiar flustered feeling whenever Sans did something asinine.  
  
“Sans!” he scolded. “That’s not what I meant, you lazybones! Get in here and reattach your hand! That’s not good for our joints!” Moments later, the lazy skeleton sauntered in, amusement clearly placed over his skull as he bent down and picked up his severed hand. “Sorry, bro,” Sans chuckled, “I was just trying to be _handy_.”  
  
Papyrus gave his smaller brother an impatient look, but a sigh was really his only response. While his jokes were painfully unfunny and immature, the self proclaimed ‘mature one’ of the two had learned to just live with them. After about a year of living on the surface, he sort of had to bear with it ever since such a wide array of jokes had been opened up. The very first week of being free, Sans went on a pun-filled rampage (don’t talk to the human like that; it wouldn’t be  _humane_.  
  
Sans fit the hand back onto his ulna and radius, the carpals seeming to just snap back into place upon making contact with the two larger bones. With a flex of his metacarpals, he looked over at the bags of food. “Gee, Paps. Did ya bring all this in with one go?” he asked, looking up at Papyrus as  the two began to put away the food. The taller skeleton immediately welled up in pride that needed to be boasted. “Why, of course! The Great Papyrus does not need to make two trips! I cannot split my efforts in half!” he boasted. He saw Sans give an amused roll of his eyelights, but he just ignored it.   
  
As Papyrus was putting away a few boxes of pasta, a phone rang from the living room. From the loud goat noise that emitted from the device; the phone was obviously Sans’. His older brother dropped the groceries he was holding and rushed off at an astounding speed of 2 mph (a new record for him), snatching the phone off the arm of the couch. After a quick glance at the caller ID, he went out the backdoor to have the conversation. Despite Papyrus’ respect for his brother’s privacy, personal calls were a rarity with him. Usually when it rang, it was just Miss Toriel with a few more awful jokes ready to be told, and Sans would always make sure Papyrus stayed within earshot to listen to just how painful they were. Calls had not been kept private since his brother started becoming the lazy slob he is now. That was years and years ago.  
  
When all the groceries had been put away and the bags were stored for later use, Sans was still outside, presumably having a talk with whoever had decided to call. It was longer than last time, Papyrus noted. While it wasn’t a particularly bad thing, it still had his curiosity itching. 'Perhaps it is just Frisk needing some help with their homework or their royal duties,’ he reasoned with himself. After all, with all the business the human had to go through with King Asgore, there were bound to be stories to tell or advice that was needed. 'But Sans of all monsters?’ he thought for a second. 'That sure is a bit odd.’ Sure, he was smart, but his brother hadn’t the slightest inkling of how to be regal.  
  
It was around that time of being lost in his thoughts that Sans had finally come back in, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as usual. The urge to ask Sans who the caller was floated up to the forefront of his skull, but Papyrus quickly brushed it off in favor of respecting his brother’s privacy as Sans had done so many times with him. Or, at least he hoped he did. Sans’ little adventures in bending the laws of time and space always did make him a bit weary, especially after the treadmill prank a few years back. Yet, even still, he kept his mandible locked tight as he watched Sans walk up the stairs.  
  
Papyrus checked the time and took a quick look out the window as he usually did around this time of day. Just as predicted, the sun was beginning to set as it did every day. He dropped what he was doing to rest his arms on the windowsill and just watch the sun fall behind the horizon. Unsurprising to those who knew him, Papyrus always watched the sun rise at dawn and fall at dusk. How could he not? With it’s bright orange and magenta colors and it’s slow transitions of the times of day, he was truly fascinated by it. There was something about watching the sun come and go that was always so special to him. Having been born in the Underground, he knew that the sun wasn’t just something to be taken for granted, unlike Sans, the lazybones. It had been an entire year since Frisk had freed them from the Underground, and everyday at dawn and dusk, Papyrus was always there to watch the sunrise. In fact, he had never missed any of them once, as hard as it may be for some to believe. He didn’t plan on missing any in the future, either. That would surely be a tragedy.  
  
Once the tall skeleton was satisfied that enough light had left the sky, he immediately got out two boxes of noodles, the angel haired variety to be exact. Thinner noodles mean room for more pasta, after all. Sans tried to to reason once that two boxes was an awful lot for just two skeletons, maybe even a bit too much, but blasphemy wasn’t tolerated in this household, so he dropped it.   
  
As he began to boil the water, he couldn’t help but have his mind wander to Sans again. He had been so secretive over the past week. Hiding calls, going out during the later hours of the day, and being tight-teethed about his actions were just some of the things that hinted his brother was hiding something. He hadn’t been this way since around the time he had first met Flowey. In fact, that particular secret still remained just that: a secret.  
  
Was something wrong?

* * *

After a quick shortcut to Alphys’ lab, Sans took a minute to prepare himself. He took a few swigs of the ketchup he brought with him, he made sure his nerves were in check, and he reminisced over all the times Papyrus had scolded him. It was a strange ritual for sure, and he just hoped he wouldn’t have to do it anymore after this session. However, no matter how much he had prepared himself, every time he walked through those doors to greet his favorite cold-blooded couple, he always found himself needing some alone time afterwards. A lot of alone time.

After a another quick drink, he took in a ribcageful of air and casually opened the door to the lab. Alphys and Undyne immediately looked up at him from the island counter they had been talking over. “Sans! D-do come in,” Alphys said, quickly shuffling over to her bag to grab, and fumble with, a blue folder. He watched her and her nervous scamper to the table and sat down on a stool, scooting closer to the island. It seemed that it had been cleared off for this occasion. His eyelights flicked up to Undyne to evaluate how bad this situation was. Upon seeing the gears turning within the fish’s head and hard at work, he knew this one was particularly bad. 

“So, lay it on me,” he sighed, folding his arms onto the table. “Another one?” Undyne shook her head. “Three this time. Two monsters. One human.” That was surprising. After a week of murders happening around town and at the most random of places, never once had a human been attacked and killed. “A human? Geeze, that takes some guts,” he murmured, before looking at folder Alphys had brought with her as she sat down. “I’m going to guess that’s whatever’s in that won’t clear me off the list.” Alphys gave a sort of apologetic nod as she opened up the folder, revealing a few non-confidential reports and photos inside. “We were never sure, at first,” she said, fingers diligently moving the photos around so they would be spread out. “But that’s only because monsters dust when they die. With this, it’s absolute.” Steeling himself, Sans brought his gaze over the numerous photos. They weren’t pretty.

He was immediately sickened to see the different positions of a dead human body, this one being a male. While none of them were of the crime scene (that would get Undyne in deep trouble), they seemed to be from a coroner’s table. It appeared that Alphys put in a request to get them specifically for him, which was surprising seeing how she couldn’t take death very well. The most noticeable feature of the body was the giant hole in the middle on the abdomen. Geez, it’s like this guy was impaled on a tree. Upon further inspection, he eventually saw the various broken bones and caved in parts of his body. It looked like someone took a baseball bat to this guy. Whoever did this clearly did not like humans one bit.

“The fatal wound as well as the other bruises and breaks were caused by something large and blunt,” Alphys explained, turned away from the folder so she wouldn’t have to see it. “It took a while, but it was eventually figured out that the marks and indentations within the body directly match a large bone. A femur to be exact. The residue left over confirms the bone was made of magic, and the only monsters that can conjure bones are skeletons. As far as we know, there are only two.”

'Three,’ Sans corrected in his mind, though his thoughts should be elsewhere right now.

“That’s four times now,” Undyne sighed, laying the side of her hand against her brow as she sighed. “Three sightings near the crime scenes and one body of physical proof. All in one week. Sans, the station’s been urging me to bring something in. If this keeps up, I may have to actually do something.” Sans grimaced the best he could through that permanent grin of his. Who could have been doing this? And why? There were no other skeletons (the feasible of them anyways) that would do something like this. Just the thought of another possible skeleton reeking havoc on the town shivered his bones. His LOVE remained at the basic one, so unless Papyrus was secretly a stealthy serial killer that was able to make himself look short and round, he was completely stumped on this one.

The three were completely silent for a minute or two. Finally, Undyne spoke up. “I think you should tell Pap-”

“No.”

And so that topic was settled.

“Okay, listen. I’ll put out team to find out whoever this guy is,” the fish said finally. “But, we’re running out of options here. If we don’t find this asshole, the entire kingdom’s going to be raging for my to bring you and Paps in.” Sans felt his soul drop like a sack of rocks. This whole situation was bad enough since it was happening to only him, but it would be a cold day in hell when he’d drag Papyrus into it. “Over my dead body,” he nearly snapped, his sockets void of light for the moment. It would take a lot more than that to intimidate Undyne, though. She just seemed to brush his sudden change in behavior off. “Well it just might be,” she responded in a similar snappy fashion. “There’s nothing you can really do, Sans.” Her lone visible eye softened some in sympathy when she saw Sans look down at the ground, seemingly at a loss for what to do. She gave a sigh. “If I were you, I’d go home and spend some time with Pap. The way this is headin’, it ain’t lookin’ good for you.”

Sans thought the situation over. While it was easy to prove that he was innocent, he didn’t think it would be so easy with the rest of the monsters. Eventually, even the humans would climb into the bandwagon, and knowing how prominent they were around here, he wouldn’t stand a chance. There were still tensions between monsters and humans, after all, and there have already been a few unsavory acts committed by the groups onto the other.

Sans finally let out a small huff of frustration, though on the inside he felt like screaming at the stars. It’s not every day he was being accused of murder. He’s have to do a bit of investigating on his own, wouldn’t he? He just hoped it wouldn’t get him into more trouble. He grumbled, but begrudgingly stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Hey Undyne,” he snapped, looking over at Papyrus’ best friend. “Make sure you catch this bastard, okay?” Undyne smirked some and gave a nod. “Can do, ya bag of bones. Say hi to Paps for me. We still have that cooking lesson tomorrow, alright? And make sure he’s pumped up! I won’t tolerate rookie level cooking, got that?” Sans looked back at Undyne, unable to help but chuckle. “You got it, fish lips.”

And with that, he left the lab.

Undyne watched the door for a bit, as if expecting him to come back in. She then gathered the photos up in the folder, gave Alphys a quick kiss, and left as well. 

She had a killer to catch.


	2. Coincidences Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't talk to strangers.

When Sans had first gotten a grasp on where he was, the world had terrified him. Humans were everywhere. They mingled with monsters he remembered sweeping away years ago. They all looked at him oddly and spoke muffled words he couldn't hear. Everything was just too cloudy. He'll admit: he had panicked a few times and caused a few accidents, but it's not like he couldn't help himself. Free EXP was just walking around everywhere, but with this many humans, he couldn't afford to be so reckless. However, he couldn't control himself during these times. Usually Papyrus would be here to help and comfort him, as he always did.

But Papyrus was gone.

 

* * *

 

"Maggie, let's go! Come on!" Fuku called, running to catch up with Blaine. "Okay okay, hold on!" the young Vulkin called after her, trying her hardest to keep up with the two. It wasn't exactly fair that Blaine had a skateboard and Maggie was about half both of their sizes, but damn it if she didn't at least try. She had four legs and a whole lot of determination, but it still wasn't enough. While she was able to gain a bit of ground, she had to stop at the crosswalk once traffic started up again. She swore when she realized that her friends had made it over just in time. She tried to peer over the rushing cars to see if her friends were waiting for her, but to no avail. She was going to wait it out, but the movie was going to start in five minutes. She had no time. Maybe there was a way to get there faster?

That's when a familiar blue and gray caught her eyes. "Hmm? Oh! Sans!" she called over, running to the hooded frame of the skeleton. She didn't know the skeleton too well, but he had once given her a shortcut to school as an add-on to a pretty expensive hotdog (50G if you could believe it). Sans was turned away from her, in his usual jacket and shorts as always with his arms crossed in a stiff manner. This time, he had his gray hood over his skull. He seemed to jolt slightly when he heard his name called and briskly began to walk away. Maggie frowned at this, but just shrugged it off and walked after him.

"Sans, hey, can I ask for a reeeaaallly big favor?" she panted, already tired from all that running. Sans didn't answer. She just took it as him listening. "Okay, so I need to get to the cinema, but the movie starts in five minutes," she began to explain. "You know a shortcut, right? You always know a shortcut. It's just the theater down the block. Can you help me out? I'll buy another hotdog! Heck, I'll buy you a movie ticket if you want! I just need to get there! I-.... Sans?"

About halfway through her little speech, she stopped when Sans entered an alleyway. She was a bit confused when she saw the dead end, but that's when she realized it must be another one of his shortcuts. She ran in after him, but was forced to halt once again upon seeing him stop as well. "Sans?" she huffed, bewildered by the monster's strange behavior.

"Sans, are you feeling okay?" she asked, trotting up in front of him and facing him. Sans had his head tilted downwards to where the shadows of the alley and his hood covered his skull, though she could still see that grin he was so well-know for. His hands slowly rose to embrace himself, the bones in his hands tightly clutching his arms. It was something you would see scared or deeply troubled monsters and humans do. Those who had arms, of course, which was something the Vulkin knew all too well. A shudder seemed to overtake him, something that Maggie didn't think skinless skeletons really did; however, the sudden movement did cause her to realize that something was falling from Sans' coat. It was particles, floating through the air like flour or something of the like. It was a very fine substance, and after a quick, more detailed look at Sans' jacket, she realized what the thin, easily breathable, deathly gray powder was. This wasn't Sans. This wasn't Sans at all. She began to finally feel the raw evil power, almost pungent in the air with its aura. What had she gotten herself into?

Maggie's eyes began to well with fear as she slowly started to back away further into the alley, watching Sans' every move. She finally noticed the now sporadic movements he made, as well the way he seemed to get closer to her with each time she looked away, even if she was blinking. "Sans, stay back," she warned, already beginning to feel her magma begin to bubble up inside her, getting ready to erupt at the slightest sound. "I'm warning you! I don't want to hurt you! Don't make me, okay?" She heard the low chuckle coming from Sans. Oh god, that laugh sounded so unnatural, almost as unnatural as the way Sans' already wide smile seemed to only be getting bigger and bigger by the second. Another shudder tore through the skeleton, and he took another step forward, getting closer to the backing-up Maggie. That's when Sans began to lift his skull some, his sockets coming up to look at the young, too young, Vulkin.

That expression. That expression terrified her. It was something she could only hope to see in her deepest nightmares. She felt her hope go out the window as her magic died down with fear. She backed up more, but she quickly hit the brick wall of a dead end. Sans was blocking the way, and he was only getting closer. Out of pure instinct, she let out a scream, just she saw the sharp bones spear up from the ground.

 

* * *

 

Papyrus hummed to himself happily as he made his way home, the bags of varying pasta noodles and other ingredients hanging taut from his ulnas. He had to admit, while it was a beautiful day outside, Papyrus didn't particularly feel all too sunny. It felt weird, just wandering the town of mostly humans without his brother there to crack a few one-liners. Sans hadn't accompanied him on the trip this time, saying something about needing to catch up with a friend. Papyrus knew it had something to do with the phone calls Sans had been getting, which were getting more and more frequent. He was constantly stopping in the middle of conversations to start a new one on his phone. And then it would be off to Grillby's for a few rounds of ketchup. It was quite annoying, if Papyrus was to be honest, but it was also quite worrying. What was keeping Sans away?

Papyrus looked up at the sun, taking a moment to admire it. It seemed to be in the middle of the sky, not too late for a quick stop by someplace to maybe greet a few former residents of the Underground. Muffet's was always a good place to stop by, and her spiders sure did seem to like him, but Sans had asked him to stop going there after coming back with pretty much no money each time. He felt that visiting Onionsan at the beach would be a fun time, but after the little sinking incident a few months back, he was rather hesitant now. So why not the always best choice: Frisk and their family? Miss Toriel was always happy to have him, and Frisk just loved telling him all about school, as well as listening to him talk about his daily life. Of course, he could also go see Undyne and Aphys and possibly get to see Mettaton, but they have been strangely busy over the past few days. It would make sense, though, with the both of them performing their royal duties and such (not-so-royal for Undyne, seeing as the Guard had merged with the human’s police force into just being two different units).

So it was settled then: Papyrus would go out to see his bestest friends, Frisk. He pulled to the outer edge of the sidewalk, leaning against a building as he took out his phone and searched for the human’s number in his large library of five numbers.

Just as Papyrus had found Frisk’s number, he heard a scream pierce the air over the sound of passing cars. He blinked his sockets in surprise and looked up at the direction the cry, which was quickly cut short by a sound he couldn’t quite describe. It was a mix between tearing and stone breaking, and then a sudden silence. His Royal Guard in-training instincts kicked in, and seeing as the sidewalk was almost empty save for a sleeping Knight Knight on a bench, he went to investigate.

Papyrus put his phone away and rounded the corner, nearly dropping his bags at who he saw. It was his brother, Sans, standing with his back facing him and his hood up. Papyrus was rather surprised, as Sans had said he would be at Grillby’s for the rest of the evening. What was he doing in such a dingy alley like this? He hesitantly set the bags on his arms down, approaching his brother. “Brother? What are you doing here in such an unsanitary place?” he spoke, approaching Sans from behind.

Sans suddenly jolted as if being touched with a fire poker, spinning around at a faster speed than Papyrus even thought possible for him. The smaller skeleton raised a hand, as if he was about to summon an attack, but he seemed to catch himself. Strange; Sans hadn’t used an attack on anyone in years. This immediately worried the younger brother, who took a step back in surprise upon seeing how Sans so harshly readied his magic. There was anger in those movements. Hate and fear and desperation, and so much of them at that. Papyrus’ soul grew heavy from it. But that wasn’t all that was wrong with Sans.

With the exception of having his hood up, everything about Sans just seemed wrong. His hand was kept frozen in the air, his fingers twitching, almost uncontrolled. The jacket he usually wore was strangely faded and even a bit worn, with a couple of tears and stains visible in the fabric. He was wearing white shirt as well, something that tipped Papyrus off as being extremely wrong, as Sans had left wearing a red shirt with a terrible pun as its print. However, what really knocked hard on the skeleton’s skull was Sans’ face. That awful, petrifying look that Papyrus had never thought he’d ever see on his older brother. His eye sockets were wide open, the eyelights inside almost pinpricks. Speaking of the eyelights, those were fairly unnatural looking as well. The right socket had the glowing white light ringed with red, almost the same color as the scarf that was currently draped around the taller one’s cervical vertebrae. The left socket had the same blue that Papyrus was used to seeing within their magic and during some of Sans’ more unpleasant moments. Around the blue iris, though, was another red ring.

And that expression. Several emotions were clearly spread across Sans’ face: fear, anger, panic, confusion, and desperation. But Papyrus saw something that disturbed him. Something that he never wanted to see on Sans again.

Sans looked tired. He looked so tired, and it wasn’t the kind his own brother had before a long nap; it seemed as if his brother- no, not-brother- hadn’t slept in months. The way the tops of his sockets sagged, unable to move any higher, and how his eyelights moved in a slow and lethargic fashion; he looked to be just tired and confused. He even seemed to have trouble-

“Papyrus?”

Papyrus’ train of thought was suddenly broken when his not-brother spoke. It had surprised him so much, as his voice sounded so unnatural;it was so rough, as if Sans had not spoken in many years. But why had he said his name so suddenly?

“P-Papyrus?” the Sans repeated. There was his name again. “Sans? Are you…. are you okay?” he replied, despite already knowing that whoever this monster was, it wasn’t his Sans.

“Papyrus, is that you?” this other version of his brother spoke, sounding so shaky, as though one wrong word would dust him on the spot. The skeleton in question was frozen to where he stood, not knowing what to do. Without waiting for an answer, his not-brother began to approach him, his steps seeming to be so heavy and dragging that you would have thought he had large weights tied to his tibias. Papyrus found that the ability to run away had returned to him, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Not when this Sans looked so troubled and distressed.

The twitchy Sans stopped in front of the taller monster, looking up at him with constricted lights and shaking bones. He reached forward, his phalanges stretching to grab hold of something on Papyrus, or perhaps just hoping to touch Papyrus himself. However, the hand stopped just before they could make contact, beginning to shake as if it was scared of what would happen if contact was indeed made. So the hand was dropped, leaving the false Sans to just stare up at Papyrus from behind heavy sockets.

The two stood in complete silence, a silence that drowned out the rushing of the cars outside of the alley. Papyrus needed to break the silence, for this Sans didn’t seem all too like his brother, and not in the good way. He noticed the smaller skeleton’s lights shift down to Papyrus’ scarf, staring at it as if it was some crown jewel. And that’s when it hit him like a ton of bricks. He now knew why this Sans shook the way he did, and why his movements were so slow and lethargic, why he wore his hood over his skull, or even why he was so sporadic in his movements: Sans was cold.

It all made sense now. Of course, the colored eyelights still needed to be explained, but he would ask about that later. It was rather cold out, and being dressed in casual clothing fitting the weather, Papyrus was happy to lend over an article of warmth. Seeing as Sans already had on a jacket, he didn’t remove his own light coat, but instead slid his red scarf off from around his vertebrae. He honestly felt a bit silly now, thinking that his own bone and marrow brother was some odd imposter. His imagination really did get the best of him sometimes. “Here you go, brother!” Papyrus cheered, his jovial tone of voice returning as he reached down and slipped the scarf around the older’s cervical vertebrae, making sure it was secure. “You won’t have to feel cold anymore.” Sans immediately jolted at the contact and his rose about a fraction of an inch, but the other hand quickly grabbed that arm and held it down, as if restraining himself.

Sans stared up at Papyrus, sockets now wide in shock and disbelief. However, his expression quickly melted into one that seemed to convey joy, but contained a large amount of sadness. He looked ready to cry, but no tears fell. “Oh my god,” he heard Sans whisper. “It’s you. It’s really you. Oh god, you’re back.” Papyrus was taken aback when he suddenly had his waist embraced by his brother. “Back? What do you-?”

“I’m sorry,” was what cut Papyrus off. Sans pulled away for only a moment, but it was just to tug Papyrus down to his level to embrace him once again. “I’m so sorry,” Sans repeated, his voice cracking. He sounded so close to sobs, but nothing fell. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I-I know…. I know you must…. I didn’t want to- oh god, you’re really back.” Sentences were started but never finished. Sobs were choked back, but never released. Sans just kept whispering how sorry he was. How Papyrus had finally come back.

Papyrus stared forward, his mind reeling. He had been right: this was no Sans of his. Or, at least, this wasn’t the Sans he knew and loved. This one just seemed so lost. He seemed broken. Papyrus’ arm slowly rose to wrap around him and return the embrace. The Sans jolted at his touch, but ended up just hugging him tighter. Papyrus continued to stare forward at the cold, stone ground in front of him.

There was a pile of gray dust, spread carelessly over the gray concrete, almost blending in had it not been for the fact that some much of it was gathered into one spot. Circling around the dust jutted out large bones, all angled inwardly. They had such sharp, jagged points, clearly summoned with the intention to hurt. The strangest part was that all the bones were a distinct purple shade, almost like a lilac. Such a soft color shouldn't be speckled with sprays of a dead gray. He had never seen magic like that. It was unknown to him. As much as his mind tried to deny what the powder was, the bones only confirmed his belief.

His thoughts dominating over the sound of Sans’ cries, morbid curiosity got the best of Papyrus. He slowly rubbed his gloved hands over the back of Sans’ jacket, getting a few good strokes in before shakily lifting his hand to peek at the palm. The entire palm and inner fingers of the red gloved were covered in a gray dusty powder. Sans was absolutely covered in it, hence the fade of the clothing.

Sans was covered in dust.

Papyrus’ mind went blank for a moment, every fiber in his being screaming for him to get away from the monster he was embracing, but he just couldn’t.

Sans wouldn’t stop mumbling his apologies. He sounded so broken.

Papyrus gave a slow nod to the apologies, wrapping his arms tighter around Sans.


	3. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus welcomes his new guest into his home, and essentially his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this gets a bit creepy near the end.
> 
> If you want more, follow my on my Tumblr of the same name. I do requests and such.

The dusty, more shaky version of his brother had been wrapped up in Papyrus’ arms for a full five minutes, holding back tears that would probably never fall. Sans had always been good at hiding his emotions from his brother, and this Sans wasn’t any different. Heavy breathing and a constant light shudder was the only indication that anything was wrong with the smaller skeleton at all. Papyrus barely noticed, though, with his mind reeling from the gravity of the situation. Tears pricked his sockets, threatening to trail down his skull. Who was this monster? What had they done to deserve such a fate? What if they had a family that would miss them? Thoughts of never seeing his own brother again caused those threatening tears to fall. What was he to do? Why had this Sans just killed an innocent monster? His Sans would never do such a thing, even if the monster in question had been really awful to others. Of course, he could tell Undyne, but then what would happen to the Sans currently in his arms? This Sans clearly needed his help and guidance, and he refused to let someone so in need receive the fate of being captured by the Royal Guard. Of course, he didn’t exactly know what would happen afterwards, but he knew it wasn’t pleasant.

After a few silent minutes of searching for a solution, Papyrus found a possible answer to his problem in the bones that surrounded the pile of dust. They glowed a light lavender, dimly illuminated in the darkness of the alleyway. It was sure to catch the attention of those who passed by. Despite the assurance that the death would be investigated, he sickened at the thought of letting some innocent monster or human come by to find it, no doubt horrified by what they would see. He needed to think of something else. Could he perhaps leave an anonymous tip? It was far from Papyrus’ nature to hide behind a phone call or note, but he was willing to make an exception just this once. After all, what would Undyne think of him if she found out he was comforting a monster with a heap of dust only mere feet away from him. He would never be let into the Royal Guard then. Well, that’s what he would’ve believed, anyway.

The taller skeleton slowly retreated from his mass of swirling thoughts, noticing that the dustier Sans had stopped shaking. He began to pull away from the embrace, only to be halted by the Sans grabbing and tugging at his scarf. Papyrus blinked, wiped the tears from his sockets, and looked down at the much smaller figure, who stared back with tired sockets. “W-where are you going?” the Sans rasped, brow furrowed in confusion. “I… need to head home,” he responded, voice unusually small, cracked, and unconfident. However, the Sans’ expression turned into a relieved one as he seemed to understand. “Oh! I get it.” With a bit of reluctance, they were separated. The dusty Sans watched his not-brother with what seemed like love and admiration. While these were two things Papyrus had always wanted, this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“Well I guess I’ll see you there, eh?” Sans inquired with a tilt of his head. Papyrus’ sockets widened some at this. What would his own Sans think upon greeting this… not-him? Would he force him out. “Yes, I suppose I will,” he agreed without any thought. The dustier Sans nodded, and after a few moments of grinning up at him, he brusquely strode off. The taller monster watched him with empty sockets, knowing that he was gone the moment he turned the corner.

Papyrus slowly looked over at the dust heap, letting the tears return and quickly begin to fall. No monster, good or bad, deserves this sort of fate; to live their last moment in fear and wondering if they would ever see their family again. The tears turned into full on weeping as he let his emotions flow freely in the alleyway.

* * *

On his way back home a good hour later, Papyrus made sure to leave a tip to the guard so it was assured that the slain monster in the alley would not go unnoticed. Upon drying his sockets and returning home, his first order of business was to immediately search for the dusty Sans. However, after a few name calls and deep searching, the bundle of emotions he had met not two hours ago was nowhere to be found. Papyrus was not exactly happy with this, as he was worried for whoever stumbled across that version of his brother while he was about.

“Sans!” he called out, growing more anxious as the seconds passed. He set down the groceries onto the table and tried once more. “Sans? Are you here?”

“‘Course I’m here, bro,” his brother, his real brother, yawned, sauntering down the stairs. “Watchya need, Paps? Ooh, groceries? Did ya get me ketchup?” Papyrus folded his arms as he watched Sans cross the kitchen and to the counter. As much as he despised the condiment, he did get his brother a hefty bottle of it. It was worth it to see Sans’ expression brighten slightly upon looking into the bag. “Ah, you’re the best, bro,” he chuckled, already removing the safety seal and taking a large sip, staining his teeth a light red. Papyrus cringed at the sight, momentarily forgetting who he had actually been looking for when he had arrived home. 

“Well you’d better not use that slop on any of my spaghetti,” the younger brother huffed. “I would be very cross with you if you did.” “Yeah yeah, bro,” Sans dismissed casually as he set the bottle down. “I don’t see why it matters, though. I’m eating tomato either way. There’s no need to get so saucy.”

“Brother…” Papyrus sighed, his expression becoming more firm.

“Oh c’mon, you should have seen that one coming! Geeze, you really need to ketchup!” 

“Sans.”

“I mean, you know I love this stuff from my skull tomatoes.”

“Sans, we have phalanges, not toe-”

“Don’t get upsetti over  spaghetti, Paps!”

“Sans that isn’t even a real pun don’t do this to me!”

Sans just burst into a chuckle fit at his sibling’s misery. “Okay, I’m done,” he assured him. “No tometti on the spaghetti. Got it. So is that tonight’s dinner or…?” “Well, I was going to make it tomorrow,” Papyrus explained, “but only because I thought you were staying at Grillby’s for supper. Do you think you can fend for yourself until then?” Sans nodded and began to trot back upstairs. “You got it, bro,” he drawled, disappearing behind the door to his room.

Once the groceries were properly put away, Papyrus was able to properly think of why he had been worried in the first place: his brother’s copy. Trying not to alarm his elder sibling, Papyrus was able to keep himself from darting up the stairs at the speed of light. What proceeded during the next hour was a deep search in every crack and crevice of the house, trying to find the hooded skeleton from only a few hours before. His searches came up empty, and it wasn’t until he found himself looking under the fridge that he had decided to call it quits. He had looked everywhere, including Sans’ favorite accidental late-night teleportation spots (the dish cabinets, the fireplace, behind the fridge, and atop the ceiling fans). It was around this point that Papyrus began to fear that, as much as he’d hate to admit it, he may have made that terrorful hour up. It didn’t make much sense as to why his mind would make up such a strange event, though. The hooded Sans had said that he would see him back at home, hadn’t he? As strange as this predicament was, he tried to push it to the back of his mind. The subject brung back memories of what he had experienced in that alley, making him feel a bit sickly.

As impossible as it may seem to just push something as memorable as that meeting away, Papyrus found himself living the rest of his afternoon in peace, only thinking of the Sans occasionally as he focused on more distracting tasks. However, this peace wouldn’t last long.

Papyrus hummed to himself as he brushed his teeth, finding it difficult as always to wash out his mouth due to the lack of lips. He was already in his pajamas and had already watched the sun set behind the horizon, but he didn’t feel too sleepy as usual, so on his way to his room, he grabbed a crossword to do whilst in bed. Unfortunately, he had to go through a slight change of plans upon seeing that his bed was already occupied.

There was Sans; well, it was the not-Sans. He was hunched over himself whilst sitting on the bed, playing with something that was in his hands. It was now, in the bright light of his bedroom, that Papyrus was able to see just how different this Sans was to his own. His entire body was slumped and moved so sluggishly, and yet every so often a jerk would tear through his frame. His clothes were so faded and covered with a heavy layer of gray powder. Papyrus reminded himself to clean his clothes later. The phalanges of his hands seemed eager to touch almost everything, with one hand playing with what turned out to be a pen and the other gently gliding over the fabric of the blankets below him. Those sockets sagged and were heavily lidded, and yet those brightly glowing eyelights seemed to flick around and take in almost everything there was. He twitched and looked up at his not-brother upon hearing him get close to the room. Papyrus was surprisingly quiet when he wasn’t storming around, shouting his boastful praises to himself, so this gave him a bit of a startle. With how much this clone twitched at the slightest of noises and touches, it could be inferred that he was more attentive to his surroundings than the original. This led Papyrus to wonder why he shook so much. The shaking could be likened to a Temmie vibrating should one be a bit more creative.

“You’re here,” he stated, mismatched eyelights trained at the figure in the doorway, bringing him out of his thoughts. Papyrus nodded vigorously as he slowly shut the door. “Nyeh heh, why yes I am. This is my room after all,” he replied with a light jesting tone. He noticed that the pen he was going to do his newspaper puzzles with was the one currently in Sans’ hand. He wasn’t doing anything spectacular with it; a few clicks of the spring-loaded button and slow twirls were about it. “Yeah. It is. I forgot,” not-Sans murmured, watching the skeleton unblinkingly. One would say it was even unnerving, but Papyrus could never think of his brother in such a way. Still, he hesitated when deciding to sit on the bed.

The two sat in silence for a few good minutes.

“I accidentally went to our old house,” the shorter spoke suddenly, obtaining Papyrus fleeting attention. The way he said it had a bit of humor, even bits of a chuckle, but the dreary tone of voice put on had Papyrus unable to feel happy. “Our?” he said, tilting his skull slightly. He was ignored. “And, well, you weren’t there. Obviously.” There was more of that dead humor. The clicks of the pen became more frequent as he went on. The permanent grin lessened some in grandeur. “And, for a second there, I thought you had lied to me.” With a quick flash of movements, phalanges wrapped around the pen and squeezed tightly, crushing the insides and causing both the spring and button to shoot out at projectile speeds. Papyrus looked to see where the pieces had landed, trying to process what had just happened, but was immediately brought back by laughter; dry, strained laughter that seemed to teeter on the edge of forced and just barely pushing it. At first, he was afraid this noise would wake up his Sans. “I mean, what was I thinking?” dusty Sans giggled, almost in a way that could be described as maniacal. “You? Lie to me? No… I don’t know what came over me there, either. But, hey, now you’re here. I found you. We’re home.”

Papyrus watched the other Sans for a few moments, his mind once again rethink what he should do in such a situation as this. Well, there only was one thing he could do, wasn’t there?

Papyrus came to a stand, immediately catching the full attention of his guest. Without a word, he politely excused himself from the room, only to reappear a few minutes later with arm full of bundled up blanket and pillows. Whatever dusty Sans had been expecting, it apparently hadn’t been this, as he furrowed his brow in confusion at the bundle of fluff that Papyrus proceeded to dump on the floor in between them.

“Papyrus, wha-

“Well, you’re staying the night, aren’t you?” Papyrus asked, his hands on his pelvic bone. “So I, being the great sleepover host that I am, have gathered a collection of blankets and pillows for you!”

Hooded Sans was quiet at first, eyelights shooting down to the bundle before flicking right back up to Papyrus. His grin suddenly widened as those tired sockets lifted slightly, appearing more awake than before. A chuckle escaped and bones outstretched to take the blankets into his arms. “Thanks, Paps,” he whispered, sockets closing as he brought one of the soft pillows to his sternum. 

“It’s quite alright, Sa- erm….” Papyrus stopped himself. While this skeleton was surely a version of his brother, calling him the same name just felt odd. Well, to be fair, the fact that there were two Sanses in one house was boggling enough. He would need to come up with some sort of name. Sans 2.0 perhaps? “Er, it’s quite alright. It is my duty as host to make sure all my guests enjoy their stay.”

The lankier skeleton got back into bed, bringing the covers up to his ribcage. He reached over for his pen, phalanges scrambling to find the small object, only to remember that said pen was destroyed only minutes ago. If his new roommate noticed this, he didn’t seem apologetic. So instead, Papyrus grabbed a book from his nightstand over war tactics and puzzle schematics. He was somewhat tempted to ask his new friend to read to him, but decided against it and just began reading.

Halfway through a page of his book, Papyrus realized he was being watched, and quite intently at that. He raised the tops of his sockets over the book at take a glance at his guest, and sure enough, there he was, staring straight at him with sleepy yet focused look. This reminded him of all the questions he had stored away. Where did he come from? Why was he here? What is wrong with his magic? If there was another Sans, was there another Papyrus as well? What was he going to call this Sans?

His eyelights flicked down to the faded clothes he wore.

Dust. He would call this new Sans Dust. As much as it sickened him to relate a version of his brother to a word that essentially meant “death”, it sure did fit with all that dusty powder on his clothes. If there was another Papyrus, he apparently didn’t take care of his brother like he did with his.

He took his sockets off of Dust to keep reading, ignoring the continuous stare he was getting. He had grown used to staring in the Underground. Surprisingly, Dust kept this up for a few hours until Papyrus felt it appropriate to go to bed. It was odd, seeing as if there was nothing else to do, his brother usually just fell asleep on the spot. 

Papyrus put the book neatly on his bedside and got up to flick off the lights, knowing that Dust’s eyelights were trailing him the entire time. “Goodnight, new roommate,” he chirped, hopping back into bed once the lights went out. He only glanced at the glowing red and blue lights before falling asleep.

* * *

Sans watched Papyrus fall asleep. He wanted to join him. He wanted to reach out and touch him, grab him, hug him, cradle him, cherish him.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t trust himself. He didn’t trust his hands. With how relaxed he looked at the moment, he couldn’t help but notice just how defenseless he was like this. The house was silent, but he could still hear them, goading him on, trying to cloud the rational thoughts that still clung on so desperately. He could still hear him, ringing out in his mind, even when he was right there in front of him. His bro- no. He was nowhere to be seen, but he could still hear him, albeit more clearly than the rest of them. 

He got up, making sure he didn’t wake his brother up from his slumber. Exiting the room, he looked around the house. He didn’t need much other than a marker to tell where he was. He descended the stairs, careful not to make a sound. He looked towards the fridge, quickly spotting his goal: a calendar, MTT brand, of course. From all the Xs that marred the clean white page under Mettaton’s posed body, it was mid-March. The fifteenth, to be exact. But there was no year. He practically ripped the calendar from it’s place, causing the magnet to go flying and fall somewhere unseen. He closed the book to take a look at its front. Clearly printer across the front in cursive was the current year. Well then.

Sans carelessly tossed the book onto the counter and went around to explore a house he should’ve known, ignoring their cries to go back upstairs and finish what he should’ve done. Instead, he walked into the living room, taking in everything he could see. The couch had been moved from the underground. So had the TV. There was his pet rock, well sprinkled and sitting on the counter. Everything just screamed familiarity, and yet he felt as though he didn’t belong. Nothing here was right. He jolted when he saw a flash of red. Was this home or hell?

There was still one place to look.

Sans made his way back up the stairs, pushing back their requests to go straight to Papyrus’ room. Instead, he stepped to his own room. He stared at the polished wood, so different from the faded spruce he was used to. Hesitation overtook him at first, afraid of what he would see inside. A jerk ran through his frame, forcing him to grab onto the doorknob. They wanted him to go inside. They wanted proof. So Sans twisted the knob, only to be halted by the lock embedded into the door. Of course it was locked. It was only an insignificant obstacle, however, and soon enough he was inside the room, scanning its contents. The lights were off, but the glow of his irises gave him a perfect, albeit filtered, view of the room; he didn’t want to end up surprising anybody.

The room was left exactly as he remembered. Unused treadmill, ball of unwashed clothes, mattress on floor, self-sustaining tornado in the corner; everything was perfect. He had always been one for familiarity after all, even if it had been an acquired taste. When he saw there was no one on the mattress, they suddenly quieted. They didn’t feel so bold anymore. His grin widened some as let out a sigh of relief. He no longer felt that chill that always racked his body.

Papyrus was still asleep when he returned. Sans himself wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. How could he at a time like this. Instead, he approached his brother’s bedside, getting so close that the glow of his eyelights dimly reflected against Papyrus’ skull. Sans put a gentle hand on one side of the bed, wanting to creep closer just to be able to touch him again.

“You were my biggest mistake, Papyrus,” he spoke, barely below a whisper. “You are what I regret.” Phalanges brung themselves forward to gently brush against his brother’s hand, which seemed to relax to his touch. “I promise to never hurt you like that again.” He gently wrapped his hand around Papyrus’, his body freezing slightly at the foreign touch. His brother, however, unconsciously latched on, sighing peacefully in his sleep. “I will fix everything I had ruined. I won’t mess up again. I won’t hide ever again.” He closed his sockets, relishing in this rare silent moment.

He was home.


	4. Getting Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys and Undyne find out a tad more about their suspect while Papyrus and Dust get to talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... this chapter may get a liiiiiiittle weird. Remember that there is no fontcest.

Undyne sat on the edge of the table, silently watching her wife sift through the dust in the petri dish. Several times their eyes would meet, Undyne’s showing interest and confusion while Alphys’ only served to deny her. Nothing yet.

The guard lowered her head, her fins downing some to match her rather tired disposition right now. Back in the Underground, murders were a rather rare occurrence. Sure, you’d have the occasional argument or even a good shouting match, but legitimate attacks were very few and far in between, and as they should be. Monsters just generally didn’t have a reason to hurt each other. Were there some in the beginning of their stay Underground? Yes, but that was long ago, before she was even born. Eventually, all every monster really cared about was living day by day before they fell. There was no hate between monsters.

As for humans? Well, that was another matter altogether, for it seemed as though every day they had other humans or even monsters at their throats. However, that was for another time. It didn’t matter now, because it wasn’t a human that was going around killing her kind; it was a monster, killing members of each side. A hate-filled, horrible monster was terrorizing her people, and no matter what she did or how fast she moved, all that was left behind was dust. It absolutely dusted her soul to see the tears of the friends and families she had to inform, having to respond to each phone call lying about progress made and that she was sure she would find the culprit soon. Even after all the training Asgore had put her though, nothing could prepare her for this amount of devastation. Guards were supposed to be resilient and stoic, but she was a monster made up of hope and determination. With every monster gone, she could only picture her friends in the same place, helpless and in need of help that would come all too late.

Speaking of…

Undyne’s thoughts turned to the call received by one of the humans on their police force. It had been the call that had lead them to the dust they found in an alleyway. While many were rather indifferent about the “anonymous” caller, she couldn’t mistake that voice for anyone else, even if it was crappily disguised. The high pitch, the proper language and grammar, and the fact that the caller had never even heard of an inside voice; it was none other than Papyrus. You couldn’t convince her otherwise, and Alphys seemed to agree. But the main question was: what was Papyrus doing around a dead monster? And why try to hide himself? It was obvious from the tear-filled call and shaky voice that he was distressed, so why didn’t he go to his best friend for help?

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone entering the lab.

Both Undyne and Alphys had decided not to tell Sans about his brother’s phone call today.

The short monster strode into the room, looking fairly eager to get this over and done with. That usual resigned expression was now one of yearning curiosity for what the two had found. Alphys relaxed in her lab chair, rolling away from the desk to turn to him as her wife slid off the top of the table. “Wha’d you find?” Sans asked curtly, wanting to cut straight to the point. “It was a Vulkin this time,” Alphys sighed, glancing down at her intertwining fingers. “Same monster. Same conclusion. All we really know is that whoever it is has a lot of LV in their stats and, most likely… they have a lot of determination in their system.” Sans blinked as he immediately grasped she was talking about the chemical, and was rather surprised. “Determination? How much? As in…” He trailed to give a glance at Undyne. Alphys shook her head in response. “Even higher, from what I can tell. Far past the dangerous levels. If he really is a monster, he should be a melting mass by now.”

Sans’ expression lessened some, forming the closest thing they could call a frown. “Determined?” he murmured, just taking the information in. “Determined to do what?” Alphys opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. She glanced up at her companion in a silent request for help. Undyne took no hesitation in answering. “Determined to kill,” she sighed. “They’re just… determined to hurt and kill.”

Sans fell silent, his eyelights disappearing from sight in the depths of his sockets. Gloved hand sunk themselves in his pockets, and yet were still visibly clenched tight. “Oh,” he rasped, looking away. “I see…”

* * *

 

The next morning, Papyrus and that internal clock of his woke up just before dawn. He sat up, not needing to stretch any nonexistent muscles or pop any magical joints like the humans did. He instead got up straight from his bed, as energized as someone would be before a workout. He moved past the trailing red eyelights, barely even paying them any mind. Nothing could really disturb him from a moment like this, even if it was a daily occurrence. He threw open those pesky window drapes and rested the palm side of his carpals on the windowsill. He had a perfect view of their dim neighborhood street, and if you looked ever so closely, you could see a hint of Mt. Ebott in the distance. Within minutes of this action, the already brightened sky became even more blue as a hint of orange tinted the horizon. Soon enough, that large yellow ball Papyrus had grown so fond of rose up from its hiding spot behind the horizon, the bright colors now defining the black shadows that had once overtaken the city. A simple sunrise only took a good fifteen minutes, but Papyrus always made sure to savor every second, almost as if he was scared of somehow losing it.

By the time the sun had taken its place just above the trees, Papyrus was satisfied with what he had seen. He backed away from the windowsill and turned to retrieve his clothes, when a certain dimly lit mass caught his sockets. Sitting on the computer chair of his room was the other Sans, legs crossed and head tilted up slightly so his eyelights could be seen just under his hood. Had Papyrus not seen the glow of his red eyelights shining past the rim of the fabric, he would have mistakenly assumed it was his brother. Memories of the day before flashed through his skull, immediately flooding him with sorrow. For a while, he had assumed the events had only been a morbid dream, but with the proof there in front of him, he had no choice but to face the reality of the situation one again; someone had died, and this lookalike of his brother was to blame.

Dust, as Papyrus had named him in his thoughts, turned his skull fully to look at Papyrus, donning that same tired look as last night. Had he not gotten any sleep? After all, for Sans to be up this early in the morning could only be divine intervention. However, Papyrus remembered, this wasn’t exactly Sans, or at least his Sans.

“Good morning,” the taller skeleton greeted, deciding to move past so he could continue to dress himself. “Mornin’,” Dust replied, following Papyrus’ movements from his spot on the chair. He entered the closet for a moment, picking out an outfit of some pants and a light blue t-shirt, finishing it off with his signature scarf. Once he was out of the cramped space, he couldn’t help but notice the slightly larger grin on the other’s skull, contrasting from the usual dull smile he bore. Papyrus raised the tops of his sockets some inquisitively, which Dust picked up rather quickly.

“Sorry,” he grinned, tired sockets lifting slightly. “I just didn’t think you had skeletons in your closet.” Papyrus blinked in confusion before the joke suddenly hit him. His sockets narrowed in an annoyed fashion. It seemed that this not-Sans shared more than his brother’s features. “Ah, a man of class, I see,” he sighed, fixing the scarf on his shoulders. Dust’s expression turned into one of slight surprise. “Sarcasm?” he asked with a tilt of his skull. “Well when you have to listen to my brother and Miss Toriel’s awful jokes all day long, you learn to pick it up,” he responded, moving past him and to the door. He noticed the expression on the smaller’s skull sag a bit, and no response was given. Papyrus stopped and replayed his remark, scanning to see if he had accidentally said anything wrong to upset the lookalike. Usually Sans brushed off comments such as this. He stopped his hand as it was reaching for the door handle, deciding to wait on breakfast to instead talk more. He had to admit that his curiosity was more that peaked. Like with Lady Toriel, he wanted to know all he could about the clone.

As usual, Dust’s eyelights followed Papyrus as he made his way over to the bed and sat with his legs crossed. As soon as he was motioned to, the Sans followed, sitting directly across from him in the same position, barely a few feet apart. There was silence for a couple of minutes as the two got comfortable and observed each other. Then, the questions began.

Names were fairly obvious, so Papyrus started with an easy one. “How did you sleep last night?” he asked. The answer he got was rather blunt and out of character for someone who acted somewhat like his brother. “I didn’t go to sleep.” Papyrus paused, a bit taken aback by the answer. “Why not?” he inquired, folding his hands into his lap. Dust looked away for a moment or two. “I guess I just had too much to think about.” The taller could understand that reasoning. There had been many time where he’d avoided sleep just to read a book or think out a puzzle. Still, with how his features sagged and how he wouldn’t stop shaking, it worried him how Dust didn’t get any rest that night.

“Where did you come from?” was Papyrus’ next question. The other gave a small tilt of his skull, a look of light confusion donning his face. “Waddaya mean?” he asked, his phalanges folding over each other. “I guess the Underground.” Papyrus wasn’t sure what he had been expecting for an answer, but he supposed that would suffice.

“Why are your eyelights red?” he then asked, gesturing to the red and red/blue mix of the other’s magic. Dust blinked, and looked down, raising a shaky hand to gently touch under his socket. “Oh, that,” he mumbled. “Determination.” Papyrus didn’t exactly understand what feeling determined had to do with anything; Frisk told him to be determined all the time, and yet he didn’t have red magic in his sockets like his new companion did. Still, he took the answer.

At this point, the younger monster was rather tempted to ask about the situation of the day before. However, he didn’t want to overwhelm his friend just yet, so he moved on to more subtle questions. “Why do you wear your hood up all the time?” he questioned, pointing to the somewhat thick fabric over Dust’s skull. The later skeleton looked up slightly and touched the hood, almost as if he had forgotten it was up. He looked back at the other monster.

“ _To keep the dust out of my sockets._ ”

Papyrus froze up, a hand instinctively going to his teeth to perhaps cover up a gasp that never came. Why would something so small require him to wear his hood up all the time, especially when only harming one monster?

The thought of this Sans possibly hurting more brung a shiver up his spine, but he quickly pushed the thought away. He wasn’t one to assume someone would do something so heinous. “I… I see,” was his croaked out response. Was this Sans ill? “Well, you don’t have to wear it right now. There’s no dust, see?”

Dust seemed to take the concept into consideration. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he murmured. “I guess I should take this off.” And with that, he removed his hood, his movements slow and deliberate, although his hands shook constantly and would twitch on occasion. Once the cover was down, Papyrus noticed how clean his bones were in comparison to those clothes he wore, which still sent down bits of dust at every major movement. He would have to clean those later.

Not exactly wanting to ask the Sans the biggest question nagging at the back of his skull, Papyrus gave another questioned that tugged at the end of his curiosity. “Why do you shiver so much?” he asked. Dust furrowed his brow. “Eh?” He looked down at his hand, seemingly having never noticed its default tremble. “Oh yeah…”

“Oh yeah” wasn’t exactly an answer, but Papyrus wasn’t exactly picky right now. Though, he was still curious as to why Dust shook like a vibrating Temmie. He reached a hand forward to grab the other’s own shaking bones, only to have him hiss in surprise and pull away. He retracted his own gloved hand in surprise, not expecting such a response. Dust, however, was quick to apologize. “Sorry,” he rasped, his other hand gripping his wrist. “I guess I’m not too fond of contact, huh?” He gave a dry, humorless chuckle as he looked up at Papyrus with those tired sockets. The skeleton, however, felt unease at the event, and decided that there had been enough questions for now.

“I suppose I should go make breakfast,” he announced, unfolding his legs and standing up. Once again, he moved to exit through the door, but he was once again stopped. “Papyrus,” he heard behind him. The thin monster paused and turned his head, looking over at his not-brother. Dust had yet to move from position, and instead had turned his head slightly to look at him. He noticed that weary grin twitch up slightly, about as sporadic as the rest of his shivering body. Papyrus gave a small “hmm” to show his attention had been caught.

“I have a…. rather odd thing to ask you,” he murmured, blinking slowly as he kept his sockets trained on the bigger skeleton.  “More a request, really.” Papyrus, who was always happy to help someone in need, gave a nod and walked over. “Yes?” he inquired, repositioning himself on the side of the bed.

“Can you… touch me?”

Papyrus blinked, obviously taken aback by the odd request. He had never been asked something so simple and yet so strange. “Touch you?” he responded, asking for an elaboration, but he got none. “Yeah. Touch me,” Dust whispered, raising a shaky hand up to the other, the gesture seeming to plead for the same thing.

Papyrus gave a slight nod, bringing his own arm up to meet Dust halfway, wrapping a gloved hand around the much smaller uncovered one. The smaller jerked upon contact, his bones tense within the larger’s grip. Still, Papyrus did not retreat like last time, but his grip was instead was joined by his other hand, shifting to help cup the shivering bones in one large, yet soft and gentle grasp. Dust closed his sockets at this, his jerking and twitching more visible than before, but there were signs of them slowly going down and receding. Papyrus was patient, however, and gladly let the smaller monster settle himself down.

“How is this?” he whispered gently, furrowing his brow bone in faint worry. “Is this okay?” With stilted twitches and movements, Sans gave a curt nod. “Y-yeah,” he breathed, his grip only becoming tighter. He had a blissed look on his skull, as if this touch was akin to being felt by the embodiment of happiness. “Thank you. This is perfect.” He brought up another trembling hand to latch onto Papyrus’ second one, his movements becoming slightly more unpredictable, but not as much as their first contact. His movements soon evened back out, and yet he didn’t let go. This wasn’t too bothersome, as Papyrus was fairly lost in thought, wondering why Dust acted to weird, for lack of a better term. He knew that some humans shivered in the cold, and from what he could feel through his gloves, the bones in his hands were fairly chilly. However, skeletons didn’t have flesh, so the cold didn’t exactly affect them, especially seeing how they used to live in Snowdin. Maybe he shivered because he didn’t get many hugs from his own brother, which the thought alone was absurd. It was a bit of a silent rule that Sans was required at least two mandatory hugs to help him get through the day. He didn’t know how he’d survive without them.

After minutes of staying like this, Dust finally pulled his hands away, though he seemed rather reluctant to do so. His fingers visibly clenched before being shoved into his coat pockets, the movement causing more dust to sprinkle. His features returned to looking tired and his movements were once again plodding, though his constant twitching had finally calmed down a bit. “Ha, sorry about that,” he murmured dryly, shifting to get up off the bed. “I guess I kinda needed that. You were about to make breakfast, right? I’ve been messin’ up your schedule, huh?”

Papyrus merely shook his head and came to a stand as well, exiting the room as Dust trailed behind him. “Not at all! You’re perfectly fine. You haven’t messed up anything!” “Nah,” he heard in response. “Sure I have. You were going to visit Tori yesterday, weren’t you?” Thinking back to it, he had made those plans, but they had been interrupted by his discovery of this other Sans and… well, he’d rather not think of that as of now.

“Well yes, I was,” Papyrus confirmed. “But it wasn’t completely set, yet. I was going to call Lady Toriel and Fr-” He paused mid-sentence, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He heard Dust halt in his tracks as well, looking up at the taller monster from behind. He slowly turned to look down at this Sans, brow ridge knitted tight in confusion.

“How… how did you know about that?” he asked steadily. Dust only gave a chuckle and a shrug as he moved past Papyrus. “Brotherly instinct, I suppose.” He sat at one of the chairs. Sans’ chair to be exact. “I am your big brother after all.”

Papyrus’ jaw locked, feeling a sensation well up in his soul, and it wasn’t a good one. He didn’t respond, instead going to start up breakfast.


	5. Cleaning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus and Dust struggle to adapt to one another as Papyrus continues to try and fix things up. Dust, however, is having less luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAND we're back.

Papyrus wasted no time in cooking up a quick meal for the two of them, making a quiche since he felt like showing off his below average cooking skills. He knew how to construct he food, but when it came to taste, it came up just short of edible. Some would say he had looking good but being awful down to a science. Still, it was a sort of peaceful activity for him; as much as he enjoyed the company of others, being alone with his own thoughts was a privacy he refused to take for granted. His thoughts were on the incidents of that morning. As much as his newfound roommate was quite the monster, he was still taken aback by every oddity he discovered as time progressed. For now, though, it was the almost prophetic way Dust knew about his schedule that threw him through a loop. He attempted to push it all aside, but he would admit that his curiosity was more than peaked.

The tall skeleton hummed to himself softly, finishing up breakfast and turning around to the table to serve it. He was stopped for a moment, noticing Dust waiting eagerly at the table. There were six chairs at their brand new table, just in case any of his friends came over, and yet Dust chose the exact chair Sans would always take when he decided to stay and eat. Papyrus was just about to tell Dust to pick another chair (politely, of course), as it was his brother’s chair, but then remembered that Sans most likely wouldn’t be joining them. So, to be a gracious host, he allowed the small skeleton to sit there, serving him the plate of magic food before going over to the pantry.

Dust picked up his fork, a starved expression evident across his face. That tired look lifted slightly, the grin widening as he skewered a piece onto his fork. Papyrus assumed he must be very hungry. After all, he hadn’t seen the other eat at all the day before. He let out a small exhale to himself, pausing before grabbing his box of oatmeal and dinosaur eggs. It was quick and easy, and before long, he had a bowl of his favorite food in a small bowl. Taking it over to the table to eat with Dust, he was surprised to see all the food on the other’s plate suddenly gone. He blinked his sockets in initial confusion, quickly bending down and searching under the table. Surprisingly nothing. He stood back up, brow bone furrowed, but with pride welling up in his ribcage.

“Breakfast was great,” Dust complimented slowly, snapping the other’s attention to him. “Can I…” He paused, looking away for a moment as Papyrus awaited the ending of the question. “Is there more?” The taller monster stared for a few seconds, before proudly leaping up. “Of course there is!” he declared, taking up the plate and quickly moving to the kitchen to retrieve seconds. “The Great Papyrus always makes extra for those enraptured by his food’s astounding taste!”

Now observing more carefully, Papyrus now noticed the slight glimmer of joy in the other’s mismatched eyelights as the taller skeleton returned, as if it was the first time he’d seen food in over a month. “Aha! It seems that you and your more than well-tuned palate wait for another taste of my craft, yes?” Papyrus told him joyfully, sliding the plate over. Dust just grinned in response, before promptly eating his meal at a fast pace. Well, “eating at a fast pace” was a bit of an understatement; the small monster practically inhaled the entire plate. Papyrus couldn’t help but clasp his gloved hands in momentary glee, seeing as no one had ever really taken to his food in such a way. 

His attention was soon drawn away, though, as he noticed the not-Sans get up from his seat and head over to the incredibly tall sink, presumably to go wash his plate. While he was, of course, surprised, he wasn’t ever going to complain. A Sans that actually took the time out of his busy sleeping schedule and did his dishes was nothing short of a blessing in his mind. However, a small problem soon arose once both were reminded of the towering hight of their kitchen sink, all thanks to Papyrus’ insistence. Dust stood there, staring up at the sink for a moment in what could only be assumed to be puzzlement as he looked at the enigmatic problem before him. Still, he just seemed to shrug it off and tried to somehow climb on top of the counters to reach the sink. His endeavor was quickly stopped when he felt two gloved hands wrap around his ribcage. He flinched, of course, nearly dropping the plate and doing something he knew he would regret, but Papyrus made sure to keep a sturdy hold on him. “It seems like you need a boost!” he told him confidently, lifting the other up to where he would be able to reach the top of the sink made for only the likes of the younger skeleton. Dust could only remain still, stiff as a board in the other’s care, and as he seemed to slowly realize what had occurred and started washing his plate, he never once loosened up. Papyrus could count many times where he was forced to pick up his lazybones bag of a brother to transport him somewhere he didn’t want to go, and each time Sans was about as rigid as a cooked spaghetti noodle. 

He momentarily wondered what Dust’s version of himself was like, but refused to think of such a thought any further after a few considerations.

As soon as Dust was set down, Papyrus pulled his hands away, taking a quick moment to look down at them. He quickly felt himself go stiff, his sockets widening in a horror that was not new new him in the past day. Covering the palm of his red gloves was a thin layer of dust, contrasted from handling the said skeleton for that short moment in time. Memories flashed of the dusted monster and the tightened grip on his soul from the irreversible consequences. Panic and shame quickly filled him and he slapped his gloves  onto his clothes and brushed then off to wipe the powder off as hastily as possible. It looked almost as if he was attempting to put out a fire on his shirt, the same type of panic on his face that you would see on a man on fire. Dust merely watched, expression sagged as he slowly blinked his tired sockets. Papyrus clenched his hands, stuffing them into his pockets so as to not look at them and feel the disgusting and itching crawl on his bones of the powder that was no longer there. 

“I b-believe it’s time we get you cleaned up,” he said stiffly, gesturing upstairs. “Your clothes are filthy, and I’m sure you need a bath with all that…” He cleared his voice, striding past Dust. “Come on, I don’t mind you using ours. I can even get you some clothes!” He was sure Sans wouldn’t mind if he took a few articles of clothing; he never wore anything else besides that hoodie and a pair of loose-fitting shorts, after all. Dust didn’t argue, simply following the larger skeleton up the stairs and to Sans’ room. Papyrus gripped the handle to open it, but soon found that it was locked as always. He let out a small huff of annoyance at his brother’s difficulty, reaching into his inventory for something.

Dust noticed the small setback and stepped forward and Papyrus messed with the handle. “Don’t worry, I can open it for-“ 

“No need,” Papyrus cut him off, the door suddenly swinging open. The smaller monster stopped in his tracks, staring at the ajar door in initial confusion. “Just a little jam with the handle is all,” the other continued, going into the room and quickly snatching up a few articles from the bottom of Sans’ drawers in his dresser. What he had was a pair of black sweatpants and an old blue hoodie Sans could never let go of. He smiled to himself in satisfaction, turning around to face Dust, who still stood in the doorway with a look of slight confusion as he gazed at the door and its handle.

“Papyrus…” he drawled softly. “Did you just…?”

“Take a few articles of clothing? Of course I did,” Papyrus hummed quickly, moving past the other and shutting the door behind him. Within seconds, it was locked again, and Dust’s confusion expression turned into one of silent realization and thoughtfulness at what he saw. He said nothing about it though, and Papyrus knew that would be best for now. 

He gave Dust a gentle hand on the spine to guide him along to the bathroom, complete with a tub and a sink that Sans would actually be able to reach. He retrieved a white towel from the closet and set it down on the sink counter with the clothes placed neatly on top. “There you are,” he grinned, gesturing to the shower. “Take as long as you like, as long as you get those bones clean. I’ll wash your clothes.” The smaller was silent for a moment, staring over at the towel and clothes, before slowly tilting his skull up to look at Papyrus. “Paps… you don’t have to do this for me,” he mumbled in his usual hushed tone, but he skeleton in question seemed to just brush it off with a shake of his skull. “Nonsense. I needed to do my own laundry anyways.” He looked down at Dust, placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling him stiffen. “Besides… I don’t want you to stress yourself. It’s obvious you’ve dealt with more than your fair share of worries. I want to make sure you’re feeling alright. Maybe it will finally help you get a bit of rest. After all, how long has it been since you’ve had a nap? If you really are Sans, you must be far behind your busy napping schedule.”

Dust paused as usual, taking be time to consider Papyrus’ words. Sans was never so slow, usually replying with a painfully unfunny line within a second, seemingly having a response for everything. 

The smaller skeleton’s sagged features lifted some, the eternal smile pulled upwards as he placed a hand atop Papyrus’. “Thank you…” he mumbled, squeezing the other’s fingers. “I… really appreciate it.” The other just closed his sockets with a smiled, giving the shoulder a quick pat before removing his hand. “Appreciate me all you want,” he grinned, a hand on the hip of his pelvis. “The Great Papyrus will take your appreciation as payment for his good deeds. Now, when you’re ready, place your clothes outside the door and I’ll come to clean them, understood?” With a curt nod as confirmation, he let out a small “nyeh heh heh” as he left the room, shutting the door behind him with an unintentional slam.

Once there was a door between them, Papyrus let out a small exhale, his clavicles slumping slightly as he looked back at the bathroom. It took him only a few seconds, but before long, he was straightened up again and marching downstairs confidently.

Everything was fine.

For now.

* * *

 

_If you really are Sans, you must be far behind your busy napping schedule._

Sans stared at the closed door for a long moment, before beginning to search the bathroom, his motions slow and deliberate as his sockets took in everything that looked so new and yet so familiar. He could accurately name the brand of the soap used before he pulled back the curtains. Papyrus insisted on only one brand after all, after a marketer at an outlet mall had wrung his brother in by guaranteeing white and smooth bones. As insignificant as it may seem, Sans’ skull still kept the fond memory, storing it away for future reminiscing.  

_If you really are Sans, you must be far behind your busy napping schedule._

They were back once again, though this time only in whispered hushes that pulled at the edges of his mind, attempting to snag his attention. It was unfair that his focus had been moved from them when all he ever paid attention for years had been them. Sans merely ignored them, choosing to undress despite their protests and silently placing his clothes outside the door. Starting the water, he placed the faucet on its hottest setting, steam quickly thickening the air and whitening the mirror within seconds.

Skeletons weren’t effected by any temperature that didn’t freeze their marrow or melt them on the spot. They could still feel it, but it never nipped at them or caused the slight tingling of pain that humans often described. Warmth wasn’t a necessity for them. Most of the time.

Sans slowly slipped into the water, his cold, tired bones quickly heated by the scalding water. He was as rigid as a slab of concrete as he eased himself in, warm water a definite first for him in such a long time. He had never thought of his own cleanliness in forever, to the point where he had forgotten what such luxuries even felt like. Despite the temperature feeling near boiling, he could only feel ecstasy as he slid in until the water reached his ribcage. He ignored the small layer of light gray that was swarmed around him as the dust was washed from his bones. That would be all down the drain soon enough, and with it, that panic that Papyrus donned with each time he touched him. He never wanted to see that expression on his brother’s skull again, ever. 

_If you really are Sans, you must be far behind your busy napping schedule._

His brow bone furrowed. They would let that one drop, would they? He let out a soft sigh, closing his tired sockets in attempt to shut them out.

It was merely a fluke. Papyrus had misspoken, that’s all. There was nothing else to it. 

It was a mistake.

Papyrus wouldn’t say something like that to Sans unless it was a mistake.

‘ _If you really are Sans.’_

His sockets shot open, catching a flash of red out of the corner of his vision. The red had ducked behind the edge of the tub, wisps of red fabric disappearing in a single moments at the words echoed in his skull. 

“I am Sans,” he whispered in hushed tones, knowing the one that still stuck with him could hear him perfectly despite it. 

‘ _Y_ _ou’re not his Sans_.’

Sans had nothing to say to that, his expression unable to form a glare due to his restless nature. So instead, he replied with a question. “So what would that make you?”

‘ _You have not forgotten, have you?’_

A crimson, clawed hand latched onto the edge of the tub, it’s movements sudden. Sans was quick to turn his skull, refusing to acknowledge the red. He wasn’t going to fall for this. He was home, and he was with Papyrus. The voiced of they and him were quick to overlap, flooding him with their words and their deceptions. Flashes of red were always at the corner of his vision, attempting to grab his fleeting attention.

_You are not supposed to be here._

_‘_ _If you really are Sans.’_

_You need to continue._

_‘_ _We_ _need to go home.’_

_You need to finish what you started._

_‘Please don’t push me away.’_

_Don’t leave us._

_‘Please come home.’_

Sans ground his teeth, his concentration faltering as he grabbed the soap. He would not be taking as long as he had originally hoped, but right now, he needed Papyrus. He was quick to wash his bones, clearing his white exterior of the layers of dust that only served as a reminder. They continued their vain attempts, hut for the first time in who knows how long, he dismissed and ignored them. The one he once sought care from now pushed away. He drained the water, sitting in the tub to watch with glee as the dirtied liquid was flushed down the drain. Even while he was drying himself off, though, they persisted, not taking any form of refusal as an answer. Sans quickly dressed himself in the familiar clothing, stopping in a stiff pose like a cat in a sweater. Once he was sure he was dry, he used the towel to wipe off the white sheet that fogged up the mirror, and once he got a look at his expression, the voices lessened. They continued their persisting, but grew weaker as he left the room with a faster hurry than he had showed so far. He had almost immediately bumped into Papyrus, who looked down at him in slight surprise.

They didn’t let up, growing ever louder as he stared up at the monster he knew to be his brother. 

He was home, and he knew that to be true.

Even still, they persisted.

“Papyrus…” he spoke, his grin stretching up slightly as he brought a shaking hand up. Papyrus seemed to know exactly what to do at that moment, grabbing the hand gently and grinning down at him. Sans obviously flinched, still sensitive to the contact of another. “See? Much better already! You look clean as can be!” 

They were almost deafening at this point. He needed his reassurance, and he needed it before they broke him.

“Papyrus… can you… I…I…”

He brought his other hand up, a certain desperation apparent in his voice as he tried to calm the flurry. Papyrus tilted his skull, but seemed to recognize the movement in an instant, quickly bending down to bring Sans into a gentle hug.

Sans nearly lurched in surprise, his shaking frame unable to keep still. This was all so familiar. This was home.

“Aha! I see you need your daily dose of brotherly hugs, hmm? Don’t worry! The Great Papyrus will be more than happy to fill you in!”

In an instant, they were silenced. Sans felt a warmth, resonating from deep within his soul, a type of warm feeling that rivaled the heat of the bath water.

He was home.


	6. Guide on How to Make Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dust grows more comfortable in the household, especially Papyrus, offering to assist him in an attempt to bond.

“Perhaps you require some rest!” Papyrus suggested, pulling away from shuddering Dust. “And you’re shivering worse than before! Was the water too cold?”

“No,” was his reply, presumably to both questions. “I’m fine… you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I promise.” Though Papyrus was confused by what that meant, he didn’t protest. With Sans, he usually fought and pushed and pried until the smaller skeleton gave in and let him help, but for now, he was backing off. “If you say so,” he sighed. “But on the bright side, you look much better! Your clothes are still being washed, so you’ll have to get used to these ones for now, if that’s fine with you.” Dust looked down at the old hoodie he wore, seemingly fond of it; Papyrus could faintly remember giving the article to Sans for Christmas. The not-Sans slowly put the hood over his skull, taking a moment to rub the article against his clean bones, seeming as though he was mild bliss. He didn’t blame him. The fabric was soft compared to the stiff and now uncomfortable feel of his usual jacket, tattered and more confining with app that gray powder. He didn’t just look clean, but also seemed more alive. While he still had those heave sockets and sagging movements, the bath had definitely done a few wonders. “I feel better,” he replied softly. “Thank you.”

“Oh it’s no problem at all! After all, Papyrus is the greatest host!” The taller skeleton came to a full stand and gestured downstairs. “You at least need to sit down. You’re shaking like a wobbly leaf! Here, we can watch a movie together. Maybe that will help you get some sleep.” Dust didn’t say anything in return, but nodded slowly, walking downstairs with him with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, Papyrus was already on the couch, his legs crossed and picking up the remote. He trudged over to the other side of the couch, sitting down and curling up slightly in silence. “It’s a movie I’ve been waiting to watch for a while,” Papyrus hummed happily, searching through the channels. “It just came out on TV and I recorded it as fast as I could! Apparently it’s called ‘Ruff Ruff Precious Puppy’.” The TV showed the cover of the movie on full display. Dust wasted no time in replying.

“It’s not good,” he said. Papyrus blinked in surprise, looking over at him with a furrowed brow bone. “Hmm? What do you mean? You’ve already seen it?” he asked, but Dust just shrugged. “You could say that. It’s just not good. You won’t like it.” The taller skeleton stayed silent for a moment, before laying back against the cushion. “Well I certainly don’t want to see a movie I won’t enjoy.” He looked over at the other skeleton. “Does this call for a ‘thank you’ on my part? I suppose it does. Thank you for warning me against the treachery of what would have been a bad movie. I should ask Alphys about it when she gets around to watching it.” He stopped to think for a moment. “Well, now that the movie’s over quicker than I expected, I should make us some lunch. How does spaghetti sound?”

“Spaghetti sounds great, Paps,” Dust mumbled with a contented sigh. “Then spaghetti I shall make!” Papyrus cheered, coming to a quick stand and hurrying off. The smaller monster watched silently, lost in his own thoughts, before getting up and following. 

Once he was through the door, he was met with the scene of Papyrus turning he heat of the stove way past maximum and smashing a few tomatoes with all his might. It was what Undyne had taught him during his training sessions with him, and in order to achieve her recipe, he needed to be as aggressive with the tomatoes as possible, showing them no mercy when it came to putting them in their place and making them into a thick paste. He was stopped, however, when someone grabbed his arm.

“Let’s turn this down a bit,” Dust murmured, using his unoccupied arm to turn down the hight of the flames. “Here, let me help you.” He let go of his arms and went into the pantry to grab the stool. He did find it, of course, but Papyrus had never told him about it in the first place. Perhaps he just happened to see it earlier on.

Dust placed the stool next to the taller skeleton and stepped onto it, now around the height of his companion’s ribcage. He had also grabbed a bottle of olive oil along the way. He poured a bit of the slick liquid into a pan. “If you want it to taste better,” he explained slowly, “then you should try to sauté a few of your vegetables.” Papyrus looked confused, but nodded and leaned in to watch. “So no smashing?” he asked, admittedly eager to learn. “No, you can smash the tomatoes,” Dust replied, “just take it easy. No need to liquify them, okay? We need a lot of it and scraping it off the wall isn’t as appetizing as Undyne’ll have you believe.” He leaned over to the cabinet and grabbed a few, never-before-used spices. “You’ll also want a bit of this. It makes your food taste better.”

“Are you saying my food is bad?” Papyrus to quick to ask, but Dust kept his cool. “‘Course not, Paps. Your food tastes great, but this makes it taste better, okay?” He grabbed a garlic clove. “You’ll want to sauté this, first, and not too much, okay? Maybe two cloves of the head.”

Papyrus couldn’t seem to respond. He watched, taken aback by his words. He wasn’t offended or mad by any means, he was just surprised. Sans had never offered to teach him how to cook.

“How about onions?” he asked, handing a bulb over. “What do you do with these?”

“Peel them and dice a bit of it up,” the other explained. “Then you sauté them and any other vegetables you want to add. The only vegetables that need mashing are tomatoes. Just chop up whatever you want and add it in, alright? You can do that, I know you can.”

Papyrus seemed almost lost for a moment, pausing to process the words of encouragement, and wasted no time in preparing the vegetables. This would be the first time he ever used a knife in cooking. Undyne had always said they were unnecessary. For him, of course. He quickly brought over the diced up vegetables, the questions he’d long had about cooking spewing out as he sought to learn more. Dust was slow in his movements and responses as usual, but never seemed to be bothered by all the questions. He actually seemed rather cheerful about it.

“How long do you cook the noodles?”

“Depends. These kind? I’d say eight minutes.”

“What do you do with the tomatoes?”

“You cook them with the sautéd vegetables. You don’t just scrape them off and put them on the noodles all cold n’ stuff.”

“How hot do you make the stove?” 

“For the sauce? Simmer. The water? Boil it, but don’t overdo it. They’re supposed to be cooked slowly.”

These question persisted all throughout the cooking session. Papyrus found himself more than eager to learn, while Dust seemed happy to tell him every small detail, teaching him how to stir the noodles so the water didn’t go flying, or cooking the sauce slowly to draw out the flavor.

“Alright, I think it’s ready,” Dust said under his breath, though just loud enough for Papyrus to hear. He took a spoon, dipped it into the sauce, and had a taste of their creation. “It’s great,” he grinned, dipping it in once again and handing the spoon over to Papyrus. The trainee was reluctant at first, and who could blame him? The skeleton didn’t even eat his own food. Still, with the intention of being polite, he took a small taste anyways. He was pleasantly surprised.

“This is… this is really good!” he exclaimed, watching Dust make a small plate for himself. “But who could ever doubt it with the combined skills of the Great Papyrus and his new cooking friend?”

“Yeah, who could ever doubt you-“

“Honey, I’m home,” someone called from the living room, causing the two to turn their attention to that room. Sans soon stepped in, his typical lazy grin spread across his face as he entered the room. “Sup, Papyrus?” he chuckled. “What smells good?”

“Well, you see, I was cooking wi-“ Papyrus stopped in his tracks. Dust was no longer there. He had disappeared into thin air. “I was… just cooking.”

“With who?” Sans asked, noticing the stool. “Did Frisk come over? Try to teach you a few things?”

“No,” Papyrus replied, perhaps a bit more curtly than he had meant to. “Really? You become best friends with a cook book?” his brother asked. There was a slight pang that the younger skeleton hadn’t felt in quite a while. “Why?” was all he asked. “Well, seeing as you like to read and cook, a cookbook would be your best friend,” Sans shrugged, leaning against a chair of the table. “Besides, it’s not tall enough to reach the counter, so it would probably need a stool.”

“Would you like some?” Papyrus was quick to ask, but he got a shaken of the skull as a reply. “Sorry, bro,” he replied. “I’m sure it’s great like always. All your cooking’s great, but I already ate at Grillby’s for breakfast, so I’m kinda full. Need a bit of a nap after all that eating.”

“Oh that’s just like you,” he sighed, a bit less enthusiasm present than usual. He lifted his voice a little, making his tone sound more jovial. “You’re such a lazybones! Too lazy to even eat more!” He began to pile food onto a plate for himself, which was quite an oddity.

“Yup. That’s me,” Sans replied slower than usual, watching Papyrus for a moment. There was silence for a moment, before he decided to speak again. “How about that movie you wanted to watch? What was it? Pretty Puppy or something? I can watch it with you, if you want. I know you wanted it pretty badly, y’know,” he offered. “Though, I might fall asleep to it.” He added a small chuckle at the end for good measure. “No thank you,” his brother replied, causing Sans to stop as he headed for the living room. “No?” 

“Mmhmm. I hear it’s not that good, anyways,” he explained. Sans furrowed his brow, walking back over to him. “Who told you that?” he asked, a sudden purpose coming to his voice. “Someone spoil the movie for you? You didn’t hear it from Mettaton, did you? I wouldn’t trust the guy. I can tell when I guy’s bad at watching movies. I know; I’ve Metta _ton_  of them.” Papyrus groaned at that as usual, though it wasn’t as dramatic as it usually was. “That was awful, Sans, but no. I just… heard about it on the internet,” he made up. 

Sans watched him for a few seconds, his expression not changing. With a shrug, he gave a nod, said his goodbyes, and headed upstairs. Papyrus just sighed and took a bite of his spaghetti. He had to admit, it was really good. He took another bite, savoring the taste as he headed towards the living room. 

Dust was sitting on the couch when he got there, his own plate of spaghetti sitting on the coffee table untouched. Even though he had Sans’ expression, his looks, and even his voice and way of concealing emotions, he looked absolutely seething right now. Papyrus said nothing and sat beside him. “You two should meet,” he said softly, grabbing the remote. “You would like each other.”

“No. We wouldn’t,” Dust whispered, his shaking only intensifying as he hid his sockets under his hood. “Trust me. I know.”


	7. Get Some Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus now needs to be careful with both Dust and Sans in the house, but at least he sets up a meeting with a good friend.

The day didn’t last long after Sans came home. Dust talked about leaving, getting up after finishing only a portion of his spaghetti, and just where he wanted to go, Papyrus didn’t know and didn’t bother to ask. However, he didn’t hesitate to stop him.

“Don’t…” he had started, catching the other’s attention as he was getting up. “Hmm?” Dust murmured, looking over at him with a sagged expression with little shift in emotion. They spoke in hushed whispers on his insistence, not wanting Sans to hear a word about it. As laid back as his brother was, he thought keeping his brother’s copy in his own room. This was especially concerning due to his brother’s… well, specific talents, as Dust knew.

“Please don’t hurt...” Papyrus trailed off, not being able to find the right words to say. Dust didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, as the other had more to say and made an attempt once more. “I know you don’t...”

Well, he thought he had more to say, but couldn’t get the words out. Flashes of the dust pile he found Dust with sparked in his memory. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

“Don’t leave,” he finally decided on. “You can stay in my room again.” He paused for a moment, looking outside. “Besides, you need some rest. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Dust tilted his head, but gave a slow nod in return, grinning a little wider. “Whatever you say, Paps. You’re always right.” And with that, he disappeared. Papyrus heard a little creak from upstairs, usually where his room would be located, signaling that his new roommate had done as asked. He let out a small sigh of relief, turning off the TV and going to put the rest of the spaghetti in a container. He walked over to the fridge and opened it up, surprised to see it already filled to the brim with more spaghetti and a single bag of half-eaten chips. How did he keep forgetting those were in there?

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed one of the spaghetti containers inside and opened it up, leaving it on the floor just in front of the large kitchen sink. Within a moment, the doors creaked open and a fluffy white face immediately dug into the food. “At least you’re useful for something,” he scoffed, putting the new container away. His fridge was absolutely filled with the food, and he didn’t want to waste it by throwing it away. Though, it wasn’t like he was going to eat his own spaghetti or anything.

Well, to be fair, almost no one else did, either. Not anymore, anyways.

Once the bowl was emptied, he placed it into the sink and washed it out, putting it away neatly before starting on cleaning the rest of the house.

As Papyrus was starting to mop the floor to be rid of any dog fur, his cellphone rang. He blinked in confusion, calls to his cell being rather rare. Of course, he answered in an instant, not wanting to keep the caller on hold.

“Papyrus!” came the familiar voice of his former mentor. The jovial had his soul lift as soon as he heard her speak. “Undyne! Oh how ecstatic I am to hear you call! What can the Great Papyrus do for you?” He heard a light laugh on the other end, listening to her move around the room as she talked to him. She was in her kitchen. Well, her and Alphys’ kitchen now. “Hey, it’s been a while since we talked. Well, face to face, anyways. I think our Undernet inboxes have over a bajillion messages just from talking to each other. So what’s up, punk? How ya been?”

“Oh, grand as usual,” he hummed, tucking the phone between his skull and his clavicle so he could finish up on his mopping. “Yes, it’s been an eternity! Though, with all your Royal Guard duties and such, I’m sure you’ve had enough on your plate for chatter with your favorite trainee.”

Papyrus noticed Sans saunter down the stairs from the corner of his sockets. The older sibling gave a chuckle, wandering over to the couch and flopping down onto its soft cushions. 

“Yeah, it’s been forever, huh?” Undyne agreed, clearly handing something glass related on her side of the phone. She was making herself some tea. “So, how’s everything on your end? With Alphys and the anime and the marriage?” her friend asked, genuinely curious to hear her blabber on about her life, this time coming from her own mouth instead of over the phone. “Shit, man, where do I begin?” she chuckled. “Fuck- don’t repeat that word to Sans. Anyways, I could tell you everything, buuuut...”

“Buuuut?” Papyrus repeated, the tops of his sockets raising some. “What is it Undyne?” There was a bit of silence on her end, before he heard her chuckle. “Well, I get the day off tomorrow. Y’know, one of bunch that I have. Alphys thinks I need a bit of a rest from all this guarding. She’s gonna be working tomorrow, so I was think of, y’know, doing some training. Wanna come over? For old times sake? It’s been a while since we’ve trained together.”

Papyrus was immediately ecstatic. “Oh that sounds amazing! I’d love to come over as soon as the time allows! We haven’t trained in so long!” He could tell Undyne was grinning on the other end. “Yeah, it’s been-“

“Ten months and three days, I know!”

Undyne went silent on the other end. After a quick moment, he heard her chuckle. “Yeah, you been keeping track huh? You always did have the freaky memory, huh? So, how’s six sound?”

“AM?”

“Whoa. PM, punk,” she laughed. “Just because you barely get any sleep, doesn’t mean I have to do the same.” Papyrus made an unsure hum. “I’ve been getting more sleep lately. Mostly because I don’t have much to do nowadays. I have good nights and bad nights.”

“Yeah yeah. So, tomorrow at six?”

“Tomorrow at six.”

* * *

Papyrus was upstairs by seven after having watched he sun yet an hour ago, carrying his sleepy brother under his arm. Luckily, he didn’t see Dust lurking around; he had the feeling things wouldn’t go well if the two happened to see each other. He couldn’t even decide if it was a good idea to have Dust inside the house in the first place. Well, he could keep him in the shed, but he didn’t think he really had the soul to try and keep him there. Plus, he doubted someone who resembled his brother would comply with staying there, even if he offered a bed and a mini-fridge.

He set Sans down next to the door leading to his locked room, giving him a little shake on his clavicle. The older sibling gave a little grunt as he was woken up, his sockets opening wearily as he let out a tired noise, before looking over at the door. “Ah. Thanks, bro,” he chuckled, before moving in the opposite direction, disappearing once he was out of His brother’s view. No doubt he landed in his bed, safe and sound for the night. Papyrus let out a happy hum as he made his way back to his room, opening the door and pausing when he saw Dust.

Dust sat in the computer chair, muttering unintelligible whispers to himself as he sat cross-legged and huddled into the chair’s cushion. He tilted his skull, his brow furrowed on slight confusion. It was a bit weird, but he didn’t exactly mind. The smaller skeleton wasn’t moving, either. He didn’t tap his phalanges or sway a foot; he seemed perfectly still, even as he spoke softly to himself. Of course, skeletons didn’t need to move their jaws to talk, and Sans rarely did so, but he almost felt as though it was unnatural watching this. Deep down, some part of him wanted to believe this was some elaborate, supremely unfunny joke from his obnoxious brother, but he knew it could never be.

“Oh, you’re back,” Dust suddenly spoke, seeming to have noticed Papyrus’ presence in the room for the first time. He seemed to have brightened up considerably, his grin broadening. “Hey, bro.”

Papyrus felt a strange twinge when he heard that.

“You’re not asleep,” he noted worriedly, coming in the room with his voice toned down considerably. “No, I’m not,” the other shrugged, the grin fading slightly. “It’s seven PM.”

He never thought he’d hear that in his brother’s voice again.

“You’re right, but you’re also very tired,” he told him, sitting down on his bed. “You should at least get a bit of rest. Staying up late every day shouldn’t be achieved unless you’re as great and hearty as I am.” He looked over to his closet, deciding to go over and get changed into his nighttime attire while awaiting a response. Unfortunately, one never came. He looked back at Dust, who stared back at him in return. He’s not proud to admit it, but he felt a little shiver hit his spine for a few seconds. He looked inside his closet, noticing his laptop and headphones were there from a previous night. A sudden thought came to his mind.

“Is it because of nightmares?” he asked. This seemed to have caught Dust off guard. “Huh?” came the raspy reply, having caught the smaller monster’s attention. 

“Nightmares. Are you having nightmares? Is that the problem?” Papyrus repeated, closing the closet behind him and getting dressed in the dark space. No reply came to him whilst he changed, and none came once he exited the room. There was only that tired, signature stare the other gave.

“Well if it’s nightmares that haunt you, you can count on the Great Papyrus to protect you,” he declared, perhaps a little louder than necessary. “As an expert mare-fighting force of magic, I know plenty of remedies on how to cure nightmares.” Dust’s expression waned some, a chuckle leaving him as he uncrossed his legs. “You’re really adamant about this, aren’t you?” he sighed, slumping against the cushion of the chair. “Well if I’m to be a proper host, I must know that you’re healthy and well taken care of!” he huffed, grossing his arms on an almost parent-like manner. “Fine fine,” the other gave in, closing his sockets and curling up onto the chair. Within seconds, he was asleep. 

Even with the Z’s slowly starting to float above his skull and disappearing, Papyrus wasn’t all too convinced. He watched him for a few seconds, before getting on with turning off the lights and doing a few puzzles in bed with the assistance of a flashlight.

A few puzzles turned into a few hours worth of crosswords and sudoku. He glanced over at Dust once again, watching the large Z’s float away in a small formation. He looked to his closet, before slowly getting up and walking over to the sleeping skeleton. He waved a hand in front of the other’s face, and while there was a small twitch, that was natural. He seemed to be completely asleep. As a final test, he gently poked him, but the only response given was a small jolt. Once again, that was natural, given his nature.

Now in the clear, Papyrus quietly moved towards the closet, opening it up a tad and slipping inside, closing it behind him. Sitting down on the floor, he slipped the laptop onto his lap, but pushed the headphones away this time. He enjoyed the convenience of a portable computer, as it allowed him more privacy than really necessary. He’ll admit, he just enjoyed bringing it into the closet when he would stay up late at night. It felt nice and closed off. 

First, he began cruising through the internet, checking statuses and talking with internet buddies. All the talking was one-sided for some reason, but he was always happy to help answer their unheard voices when they couldn’t type him. It would last a good thirty minutes before he decided to go on to watch a bit of Mettaton.

He smiled lightly, watching the dimly-lit screen in mild comfort, before he heard the unmistakable sound of the closet door opening. Moonlight flooded in through crack of a shadow that caped over the bit of Papyrus that wasn’t illuminated by the laptop screen. He looked up at the brightly shining eyelights that peered down at him.

The two stared at one another.

“It looks like you’re awake,” Papyrus hummed. “Yeah…” Dust murmured, not taking his sockets off of the other. The younger skeleton looked down at his laptop, pausing the video. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, but he got no reply. “Did you sleep at all?” Once again, there was no reply. Papyrus looked up at him with a worried expression. “You know, I don’t completely disapprove of naps, if that’s what you’ve heard,” he told him. “I just… don’t like the long ones.”

“So this is where you go when you don’t sleep?” Dust rasped, opening the closet door a little wider. Papyrus gave a shrug. “Well, yes. The only skeletons in my closet are me sometimes.” Dust tilted his skull, but said nothing as he sat down beside he taller monster, who gave him a curious look. He just stayed silent as he leaned over, pressing the play button on the screen and sitting back to watch.

Papyrus didn’t protest. As much as he enjoyed the privacy of his closet, he didn’t think he had the willpower to tell him to go. It wasn’t that he minded, though. Dust seemed to really like being around him, and who was he to deny him? He could use the company, too.


	8. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus and Dust are unable to get any sleep, so instead they talk about they can't sleep.

Dust watched the movie with Papyrus, silent the entire time. As usual, Papyrus didn’t mind, being the one to make most of the side comments about the performance and getting excited during certain scenes of Mettaton showing off his acting chops. 

“Oh I love this part,” he grinned happily, resting his skull in his gloved hands while he watched the fabulous robot on screen. Dust listened and nodded along, seemingly more interested in Papyrus than Mettaton. Sans never quite had a liking for robot, but the younger skeleton knew from experience that he wasn’t going to keep him from watching it. Sans was fine with him watching practically anything as long as he got to control the parental lock. 

The MTT network always had Papyrus’ favorite shows on, all starring that amazing robot on screen. Miss Toriel and Sans were always a tad judgmental, but what was there to be critical about? He was human-fighting robot/ghost with amazing cooking skills. How could anyone  _not_ love Mettaton? He loved his fans almost as much as he loved himself. Ahem,  _almost_. That level of confidence and self-esteem was something the skeleton found himself relating to on a daily basis. Why people didn’t love themselves more always seemed to stump him.

Papyrus hummed along softly to songs and grinned a little wider when the climax of the episode appeared. Occasionally his sockets would turn to peer at the other occupant, whose tired grin didn’t fade as he watched the episode along with him.

“I know him, did you know?” he grinned, looking over at Dust. The sudden comment seemed to surprise the smaller skeleton, who blinked and looked over at him with a furrowed brow. He paused for a minute, tilting his skull slightly from left to right as he thought, and gave a nod. “Yeah, I know that,” he rasped, looking back down at the lap top. “You don’t know him very well, though.” Papyrus was almost offended by that idea, until he thought about it a bit more. “Well, we don’t really hang out anymore. Nor did we ever hang out, to be honest,” he replied, his legs tucking in more as he adjusted the screen. “I see him occasionally, however. Mostly when Frisk enjoys bringing him around whenever he’s on his breaks. We don’t really talk.”

“You wish you were closer, huh?” Dust prodded, no longer looking at the screen, which Papyrus had paused so they could continue to talk. While Papyrus didn’t exactly have a whisper voice, he had turned down the volume significantly so they could chat without waking his brother; if he was in there, of course.

Papyrus gave a slight nod, a gloved hand coming to his face as he nodded slowly. It was almost like he was embarrassed about it. “While I certainly think it as a dream come true,” he hummed, “I have far to busy a schedule to arrange another friendship, especially after all the friends I already have on social media.”

Dust raised he tops of his sockets questioningly. “All twenty-five of them?” he mumbled, to which Papyrus gave him a quick blank stare. No real humor was detected in that statement, but it pestered him all the same. Papyrus crossed his arms in a classic grumpy manner; if he had lips, you could be sure they would be curled right about now. “You ability to know specifically private things is now becoming an annoyance,” he huffed. “How am I supposed to surprise you if I ever gave you a friendship hug from behind?”

Dust didn’t answer the question, knowing it was rhetorical anyways. “So why don’t you talk to him more?” he asked, continuing to pry about Mettaton. A flicker of minor disappointment hit Papyrus, seeing his attempt to divert the conversation had failed. Nonetheless, he responded accordingly. “Mettaton’s always busy,” he shrugged, fiddling with his red gloves. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt his highly involved schedule.” He moved to play the rest of the episode, but the not-Sans seemed to have more to say. “Well he’s in town this month isn’t he?” he pointed out, resting his hands in his own lap. “Why not talk to him the next time you see Frisk. I’m sure he’ll be there.” This suggestion only received a passing glance. “Wowie, all this pre-destined knowledge you’ve attained is making me wish I could see into the future, too,” Papyrus pouted, but his spirits soon lifted back to their usual jovial ways. “But if you insist, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind striking up a chat with someone as great as me!” He looked over at his smaller companion with a fond grin as he began to play the rest of the episode. “You’re quite the motivator, did you know that? You’re so very helpful, kind of like that phone Frisk has that stores up all those items. Alphys is currently making a few for all of us, so I’m excited for mine.” 

Upon the episode ending, he shut the laptop and put it to the side. “You’re also a good chat! I enjoy talking to you.” 

Dust’s faded grin twitched upwards slightly, letting out a small chuckle. “Thanks, Paps.” His eyelights shifted, focusing back up on him. “So can talk about why you’re in the closet?” He had a quick look around the closed space. “Any skeletons in your closet?”

Papyrus put a hand proudly to his chest, closing his sockets. “The Great Papyrus never has any skeletons in his closet!” He paused, looking to the side. “Well, except me, sometimes. And I suppose you now, too! Welcome to the great closet of Papyrus, then.”

Dust didn’t reply, awaiting his response. He didn’t seem impatient, however. Like everything about him, he just took it slow, as if he had all the time in the world to just sit there and wait for something that could possibly never come his way. Even Sans wasn’t ever this sedated. At least Sans had this small bounce to him that kept him on his toes to tell a pun or time a joke just right. Dust wasn’t like that. Everything about him was slowed down by a good hundred percent; even the way he blinked was sluggish.

Papyrus didn’t realize he hadn’t answered the question until the silence became more than apparent. Sans would have filled the void with a joke, but Dust seemed contempt to let it be.

“I’m not a big fan of naps,” Papyrus decided on, clasping his fingers together. “You may see others take hours and hours of naps as night, but I enjoy putting my time into better use.” 

Dust looked down at the laptop, but seemed to think of a better comment than the obvious. “Why don’t you like to sleep, Papyrus?” he asked. 

Papyrus watched him for a moment, deciding whether or not to actually answer such personal questions. He still valued his privacy, after all.

“Well, have you seen those lasers in Hotland? The lasers and conveyor belts?” he asked back, though he didn’t pause for an answer. “Those are my least favorite kinds of nightmares.”

Silence once again reigned, only interrupted by a soft chuckle from Dust, who seemed to find some humor in his comment. “Yeah. Nightmares. I get you. You had those a lot growing up, huh?” There was another chuckle, this time louder as he put a hand to his chest, rubbing at his sternum over his coat that Sans had (unknowingly) lent to him. Papyrus opened his mandible to possibly say something to him, but was soon interrupted when Dust looked up into his sockets, his grin spreading with a slight tremble. “D-do… do you think you’d sleep better if you had a bedtime story?” he whispered, his eyelights seeming to grow in brightness as he asked the question. This took the other by surprise, as he wasn’t expecting such a question. “A bedtime story?” he scoffed. “The Great Papyrus is in no need for a bedtime story. He can get himself to sleep whenever he wants to.” 

“But you’ll have nightmares again,” Dust pointed out, “like you always used to.” Papyrus paused, having to take his question into deep consideration, but ultimately shook his head. “No thank you,” he declined. “As much as I appreciate it, I’m past that. I haven’t had a bedtime story read to me since-“

“Since the Underground,” Dust finished for him, visibly shivering in the darkness of the closet. “Yeah… I understand.”

“You’re cold again,” Papyrus noted, taking hold of the skeleton’s humerus, causing him to jolt in surprise at the touch. Papyrus didn’t flinch, however, almost expecting this out of him every time. He took Dust’s trembling hand in his, covering it with his firm gloves, watching him lower his head and hug himself with his other arm until the shaking was reduced back to its minimum. Papyrus gently squeezed his hand, a comforting gesture to let him know he was going to be alright. “Why don’t we talk about you instead?” he offered. “After all, you woke up fairly quickly from your sleep. Why can’t you sleep? You always look tired after all, what with your shoulders all slumped and how slow you are. It’s like you’ve become lazier… but not really at the same time.”

Dust blinked, lowering his skull slightly as his eyelights seemed to dull slightly. “I just have too much to think about,” he murmured, bringing a hand back to bring his hood back up over his skull. “Too much for sleep, anyways. They like to keep me awake when I need rest, so I tend to skip sleep altogether.”

“‘They’? Who’s that?” Papyrus inquired, now curious as to who was keeping Dust awake. “If they are disturbing you from your busy schedule, you must tell them to politely back off of your beeswax.”

Dust couldn’t seem to help but chuckle at this, shaking his head as he rose a hand and placed it on his own sternum. “No one. Just my thoughts. They keep me up at night.” Papyrus slowly let go of his hand, but was surprised to find him still holding on tightly after he let go. He didn’t mind, however, instead using it as an opportunity to pull his friend towards him and into his lap, taking the surprised and stiffening Dust and wrapping his arms around him in a small hug. The smaller skeleton was slow to react, but soon responded by doing the same, resting his head against the other’s ribcage in a noticeably exhausted fashion. 

“When’s the last time you’ve slept?” Papyrus asked softly, keeping him close as he lessened the usually loud tone of his voice. To this, he didn’t receive an answer for several minutes, to which he was happy to wait for. It had to be no more than a couple of days. After all, he was almost an exact copy of Sans, and if he knew anything about copies of Sanses, it was that they liked to sleep. Sure, it was a bit of an annoyance, but it was Sans they were talking about. Papyrus had learned to accept it overtime, knowing his brother wouldn’t ever change unless the world might be ending. Even then, he might be too lazy to really do anything about it.

“I don’t know.”

Papyrus paused, taken aback by the answer. “Excuse me?” he replied, to which he got the same answer. “I don’t know.” 

It took Papyrus a few seconds to respond, unsure of how to even go about it.

“You… you don’t know the last time you slept?” he asked carefully, unsure of himself now. He felt his soul ache when Dust slowly nodded against his chest. 

“I can’t remember,” he rasped, closing his sockets as he spoke. “I… just don’t know.”

Papyrus didn’t speak. Memories of the dust pile and the bones flashed through his skull as he suddenly felt as weak as Dust right about then. An empathetic sadness filled his soul as his arms wrapped tighter around the smaller skeleton. 

“Would… a bedtime story help you rest easier?” he asked, pulling himself away some to look down at him properly. Dust visibly tensed, clearly surprised by the proposal. Nonetheless, he gave a slow nod, his lights of his sockets beginning to glow brighter once again. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he murmured, releasing his arms from Papyrus. However, it was Papyrus who refused to let go this time, taking a curt stand with Dust almost cradled in his arms as he made an exit out of the closet. 

Setting Dust gently on the edge of the bed, Papyrus looked over the bookshelf, before picking out a large, thin book and handing it over to his companion. “I would like this one, please,” he requested, before snuggling under the bedsheets with a small grin. “You can start at the beginning, or else it won’t make sense.” 

Dust looked down at the thin book, his sockets able to read the large, colorful title, even in the dark. However, he turned on the lamp on the nightstand, just so Papyrus could see the pictures. Papyrus always loved seeing the pictures. His grin widened as he turned the cover to the title page for the pajama-clad skeleton to properly see it’s imaginative colors.

“Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny,” he read aloud. He stopped for a moment, lowering his skull as if to take a deep breath. Papyrus waited with anticipation, no longer feeling the embarrassment he once had whenever thinking of this exact situation. He leaned forward, giving Dust a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, one hat was rewarded with a soft grin. Then, he began to read the book to Papyrus softly under the dull light of the shaded lamp.

Papyrus had to admit: that ending got him.


	9. Omelettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus and Dust seem to be getting more comfortable with each other. As Papyrus prepares to head out to Undyne's, Dust decides to be honest as Papyrus just goes along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I misspelled omelette each fucking time I wrote it in this chapter.

_We need to go home, Sans._

Occasionally, Dust had the tendency to see red. Not metaphorically, but in the corner of his socket, just barely out of reach.

During the long night of watching his baby brother, he could hear them struggle to resurface. He could hear  _him_  specifically.

_He’s not your brother, I am._

Had he already resurfaced. Every so often he would hear that familiar whisper of a voice, sounding so far away, but at the same time, right next to his skull. He could see red glows where there clearly were none, or so he thought.

_You need to finish what you’ve started._

Dust would always blink to make him disappear, but in just stark blackness, he couldn't escape it; he would see the red with almost every passing gaze. He, like the voices, were eternal, like the sun. They may seem to disappear every once and a while, but they would soon return and bear down its heat.

This wasn’t Papyrus. Papyrus didn’t have long, clawed fingers or red eyes that glowed softly like a smoldering fire. His laugh didn’t echo the voices he heard and his scarf wasn’t supposed to be so mangled, riddled with perfectly-shaped tears. He wasn't supposed to look like that. He was supposed to be complete. He was whole.

He felt physically ill when that thing touched Papyrus’ skull lightly, giggling like him but unlike him at the same time as he traced along the jaw bone. It wasn’t like Sans could do anything, though. For once, his magic couldn’t will this enemy away, no matter how hard he wanted it to. He didn’t need this brother because he had found the real one; this brother was just an imitation of the real thing. It was trying to trick him into going back, but he wouldn’t comply. He could never go back. He didn’t think he could handle it again.

He reached up to place a solid hand on the chest of his hoodie, where he could feel the soul pulsing with tireless energy, even through the fabric. 

He envied Papyrus. He wished he could sleep right now and avoid what was, just as his baby brother did now. Despite all the envy, he could muster no bad taste for the skeleton; he couldn’t. He placed a soft hand on the other’s clavicle, the imposter disappearing at the lone touch. He watched his little brother, his sockets brightening with his glowing irises. Raising his hand higher, he hesitated only for a moment before giving Papyrus a gentle rub on the cranium of his skull. 

“I love you.”

There was silence.

“Do you love me, too?”

He received no response.

“Because I don’t think I could control myself if you didn’t.”

There was only nothing.

* * *

Sans covered his skull with a corner of one of the blankets he was barely able to pull away from the blanket ball. He didn’t want to get up. He never wanted to get up. There was, however, an obligation that kept him from hiding upstairs forever. 

After he was finished denying that he couldn’t hide from the sun forever, he groggily got up, rubbing one of his tired sockets. Looking down at his wrinkled white shirt, he thought for a brief moment on whether or not he should really wear it a third day in a row. In a brief moment of really no consideration, he decided another day wouldn’t hurt. Papyrus would throw a fit if he wasn’t wearing another jacket, however. His bro preferred that he at least care about his own appearance, but honestly, that was a feat in itself. He thought about wearing it just to get a conversation out of Papyrus.

Sans paused as he picked up his crumpled up jacket from the laundry pile. Papyrus had been in a bit of a stink yesterday, he could tell. Anything less than jovial was concerning for the smaller skeleton, who only wanted the best for the youngest living skeleton monster.

He looked down at the dirtied jacket, before tossing it away with an ‘eh’. That would probably be pushing it. He always knew the perfect balance of annoyance that would get a good reaction. A few good puns would probably get him back to his usual mood, even he wasn’t in it already. Perhaps he would scarf down some of the food he’d made for breakfast. That always seemed to trigger a good response. Besides, he’d been avoiding any contact with the food for ages; it was about that time where he should eat something his bro made for him before he went to Grillby’s for a quick drink.

Going over to his drawer — he was too lazy to hang things up in a wardrobe — he looked at the messy bundles of jackets. Varying shades of blue and gray stared back up at him, each one tragically underused and awaiting his approval. He decided to go without zippers this time, searching for his blue hoodie he had been gifted a while back. “Gifted”, by the way, is Sans’ term for “traded for some hotdogs.” He was a bit puzzled, however, when he couldn’t seem to find it. While he liked its looser feel and its relative snugness, he wasn’t distraught or anything; he had probably misplaced it. So instead, he just grabbed a regular gray jacket and threw it on, taking a shortcut downstairs.

“Heya, bro,” Sans greeted, stepping into the kitchen. Papyrus looked up from his phone in faint surprise. “Brother!” he replied, setting his phone down and grinning happily. “You’ve awoken earlier than usual! It took a couple of years, but you’ve finally adjusted your schedule of four hours less of sleep.”

Sans’ permanent grin turned sheepish for a moment, looking to the side. “Eh, it may just be a one day thing, y’know? I hate to break my own track record,” he chuckled. Papyrus gained that visible look of confusion he knew so well. “Track record? I’ve never seen you visit a track in my life!”  Sans saw the opportunity and promptly nose-dived right into it.

“Ey, well at least someone’s keeping  _track_  of me!”

There came that groan of annoyance Papyrus was so used to making.

“Terrible, brother. Just terrible.” Despite being momentarily vexed, he still offered Sans a seat at the table, which he gladly took. He didn’t fail to notice how the seat was already pulled out, though. He finally noticed the plate of food placed neatly on the table, stacked with several egg creations. It took him a moment, but he soon realized they were omelettes, each one looking progressively better as the small pile stacked higher. 

“Oh, I see you have an a _track_ tion to my food as always! Nyeh heh heh,” Papyrus laughed, ignoring his brother’s chuckle in response. “Come along! Come have a… flat, food-filled egg.”

“Ya mean an omelette?” Sans corrected, quirking a socket as he looked over the stack of food. He was reluctant to have one, but was willing to scarf it down for his little bro. “An om-hmm?” Papyrus questioned, furrowing his brow in slight confusion. The older brother just chuckled and shook his head, sitting down and scooping one of the omelette’s on the top onto a plate Papyrus had placed at his seat. Preparing his body, he picked up his fork and cut the meal into smaller pieces. The many hot dog eating contests he had taken up had helped him train to eat things fast without having to taste it. That’s how he was able to get through most of the nightly meals of spaghetti.

Papyrus watched on as Sans devoured the meal within seconds. Had the food not been magic, it would have all fallen directly through his skull; thankfully, every bite seemed to disappear into thin air one right after the other. He grimaced to himself the best a skeleton could when Sans set down his fork. Bits of egg had fallen onto the tablecloth, no doubt from his brother’s messy eating habits. “Sans! Look at the mess you’ve made!” he fussed, standing up out of his chair. “Clean that up!”

“Yeah yeah, I will,” Sans shrugged, smoothly sliding out of his chair and coming to a stand. “Tell you what; I’ll clean it up after I go pick up my sock, okay?” He turned to leave through the garage, ready to go visit Alphys and get the check up on the latest happenings.

“Another one of your loops with a hole in the middle, I see?” Papyrus huffed. “Well luckily for me, I’ve cut that hole in half!” Sans looked over his shoulder and back at his bro. “Oh? How’s that, bro? You poked a hole in my loophole? A hole in a hole?” he chuckled, a hand on the doorknob.

“You’re sock’s already been picked up,” the younger monster replied with a triumphant grin. “I suppose you’ll have to get straight to cleaning your plate!” Sans had to admit, he was a little caught off guard. His expression didn’t show it, but he was actually pretty surprised by news that would seem mundane to the average monster.. That sock had been there for almost a year now and had been collecting a fair amount of dust. He had placed it there for the sake of familiarity, since the sock in the Underground was still there to this day and had literally  _never_ been picked up. Papyrus nearly bugged him about it almost every day, something he did more than insist Sans eat his spaghetti. He supposed his brother just got tired of having that sock in the same position day after day, but he’ll give him one thing: he had been determined to get Sans to pick up his own sock. He would even sweep around it when cleaning up the house. He never went into Sans’ room just because he demanded the eldest pick up his own room. Fair enough, seeing as it was his stuff after all. Now the sock had been picked up. What that meant now, he didn’t know.

“Oh, really? Thanks bro,” he shrugged. “I was gonna do it myself eventually.”

Papyrus’ expression fell slightly, just for a moment, but not unnoticed by his brother. “I swear, you need to take better care of yourself!” he huffed in annoyance, going to put away all the omelettes into the fridge.

“There’s not much to take care of,” he chuckled. “I would say I’m all skin and bones, but I don’t even have skin!”

“Your stalling always gets under my metaphorical and nonexistent skin,” Papyrus huffed. “So where are you off to today, brother?”

“Oh you know. Punnin’ around,” Sans shrugged. “I’m gonna see Alphys. Talk about nerd stuff and whatnot.” He looked up as Papyrus was pulling out a sponge and some soap. He could only imagine how bored his brother must be just hanging out with himself all day if it got to the point where he actually picked up the sock. “Y’know, Toriel was needing some help with baking for Frisk’s bake sale. You think you could help her out with that?” he mentioned to him, stuffing his hands into his pockets. To this, he was immediately denied. “As fun as that sounds, brother, I have a training session with Undyne at six! I mustn’t be late!”

“Training? It’s been a while,” Sans noted, secretly hoping to another destroyed house. “At her place, right?” Relief was felt when he got a confirming nod. “Sweet. Maybe you’ll learn some new moves this time, eh? She always was a good teacher,” he chuckled. “Have fun, okay?”

“Of course! It’s always fun and games over there!” Papyrus grinned, before his brow furrowed to a serious expression. “But also serious guard work. I may be a bit rusty, so I must play close attention at all times.”

“If you say so, bro,” Sans replied, heading to the door. “See you when I get home, okay?”

“I will see you soon!”

With that, Sans exited the house. The moment he was gone, Papyrus turned his head when he found that he could suddenly hear the clinking of metal against ceramic. 

Dust was there, retrieving the plate and fork Sans had just eaten off of. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” the younger skeleton quickly told him, rushing over to his roommate to take up the dish. Sans, however, tucked the plate out of his reach, already heading toward the sink. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he was assured. He backed away once more when Papyrus made another move for the dish. “I want to. I promise.” When he came up to the the extremely tall sink, Papyrus was about to offer his help in reaching; however, with only a quick shortcut, Dust was sitting atop the ledge of the sink, silently washing his dish with the running water. 

Watching his not-brother wash actually clean was jarring, to say the least. When he had woken up and seen that the sock was missing, it was akin to the end of hunger itself. He definitely was not complaining, but he couldn’t help be a little disappointed. It wasn’t that he had expected Sans to eventually pick it up (which he hoped he would), but more of that it had almost seemed like another piece of furniture they owned to lighten up the house; an decoration that wasn’t store-bought for you to hang up on the walls, but a piece specifically their own that seemed to ring true to their small, two-skeleton family. Of course, he could always put the sock back, but then it would just feel like a regular sock, not the one he had asked Sans endlessly to pick up.

He shook his skull, finding it ridiculous his mind was staying on a single sock for so long. Dust was already drying his hands by the time he returned to reality. “Once again, thank you for showing me how to make such a delightful breakfast!” Papyrus mentioned to him cheerily. “You don’t know how many times I’ve tried to make omelettes. Most monsters always believed they were scrambled eggs! I had no idea salt made such a difference!”

“It’s a bit hard at first, but you learn quickly enough,” Dust shrugged sluggishly, looking over at the fridge. “You put them in there, right? I might just have a few while you’re at Undyne’s.”

“Help yourself! Sans and I cannot eat it all by ourselves. We have too much to do in our spare time.” Papyrus encouraged, gesturing to the fridge. He didn’t miss how Dust visibly cringed when he mentioned Sans’ name. The flinch caused him to remember his friend’s little condition.

“Time for your hourly Papyrus hug!” he grinned, scooping up Dust into an embrace once again. It had been something he was doing every hour since they had (or at least he had) woken up. The touch-starved monster, as usual, stiffened in response. Despite this, he relaxed at a much quicker rate than the other night. It took a good minute or so, but it still counted. Papyrus wanted to treat him as well as possible, just in case the other Papyrus that he still assumed had to be real wasn’t treating him as a brother should. Gently rubbing his spine, he murmured a soft “you’re important, even if you don’t know it” just for good measure. Inspirational quotes had always helped to brighten his own day up. Once he felt the hugging time was appropriate, he pulled away, grinning jovially down at his companion. Dust blinked and looked up at him, that worn grin of his twitching upwards as a reaction. 

“Anyhoo, I must get ready,” the taller skeleton hummed, retrieving a pot from a under the stove. “Undyne always destroys her own pot, so I insist on bringing her my own,” he explained, checking to see if it was polished to perfection. “It always grants me bonus points, as well as making it more likely she will teach me some amazing guard moves!”

He noticed a speck of dust and quickly retrieved a hand towel to wipe the fiendish dirt off. Rubbing in circles, the blemish was no longer in just a few quick strokes.

“Hey… Paps?” Dust rasped, suddenly sitting on the counter when Papyrus looked over. He swung his legs idly, watching his soles of his slippers gently bump against the base of the counter. “What is it, roommate of mine?” he replied, sharing a grin with him. “Would you perhaps like to come?”

“Can I share an unpopular opinion with you?” the tired skeleton instead asked. Papyrus was a little unsure of the request, but saw no reason why he didn’t need to, much less be required to ask. “I try not to dwell on the unpopular,” he replied, setting the pot down. “However, if it will boost this poor little opinion’s own popularity, I will be happy to lend my listening holes. Speak on, friend!”

“I don’t think you should go over to Undyne’s,” Dust confessed.

Papyrus paused in his movement, for once not having a response in the ten seconds after the statement was said.

“I mean, you can do whatever you want,” Dust clarified, his voice not having the same hurried backtracking as most when trying to explained themselves on a controversial topic. “I just believe that… well… it’s a bad idea, is all.” Papyrus didn’t even know where to begin with his response. Still, he let his mouth roam as he does.

“Are you telling me not to do something?” he questioned, not sounding any degree of angry, but instead just confused. “Well, no,” Dust replied, resting his hands in his lap. “You’re an adult, Papyrus; we both know that. You practically take care of the house  _and_  me; you can make your own rational decisions. I’m just givin’ my own opinion. If you still want to go through with it, I’ll still support you no matter what.”

“Why… why would it be a bad idea to go over to Undyne’s?” the larger skeleton implored, adding hesitation that was so unlike him. The mood had soured considerably with Dust’s contribution, but he still listened nonetheless, finding it to be important he do so. “Undyne isn’t a bad person by any means,” the not-Sans told him steadily. “It’s more of that if you oh so really wanted to train, you might find it somewhere other than cooking. This might be fun for a binding time, but… it feels as though we’re wasting time, don’t you agree?”

“Are you asking if I think I’m worth her time?” Papyrus inquired his brow ridge furrowed in slight confusion. “No, I’m asking if you think she’s worth yours,” Dust retorted.

The room was soon filled with silence. Some may think his rude or even hurtful, but there was no hesitation in his words. Sans would never say something so, well, bluntly honest without proper prompt, especially to his own brother. He always liked to skirt around issues, coating it with a layer of honey before delivering them to Papyrus. He may not have been as alive looking as Sans, but the way he looked up at his not-brother with a twitching smile had the other convinced every word was spoken with sincerity, but also proper concern. While Papyrus was definitely taken aback, he wasn’t without words or opinions.

“I understand your concerns,” he assured his companion. There was a slight pause as he stopped to consider his next diction carefully. “I understand them more than you may think. And while I appreciate your courageous efforts to stop the Great Papyrus, Undyne is still my friend, and a best one at that. We haven’t trained in ages; I’d really enjoy catching up on all the catch up we must do. I apologize if it may not be what you want, but I’m grateful you tried in the first place.” He smiled wide at Dust. “Very very thankful! I greatly appreciate your honesty, as well!”

The smaller skeleton gave a slow, understanding nod. “I get you,” he replied, scooting off the counter with a soft push. He reached forward with trembling hands and gently grabbed one of Papyrus’ gloved ones.  Apart from their first meeting— an event Papyrus would rather never think about— this was the first time Dust had actively moved for physical contact without permission first. The hourly hugs much be doing him some good. “Just remember one thing: no matter what happened in the past or what is happening now, I’m different.”

“Of course you’re different!” Papyrus agreed. “You may have your flaws, but you are unique, and that is what makes you special and important!”

Dust couldn’t help it when he looked down with a stupid grin spread across his skull. “Yeah… that’s true,” he agreed, flexing his fingers around the other's hand. “However… that’s not what matters. I just want you to know that no matter what, I won’t lie to you. I won’t disrespect you. I won’t….” His body let out a small shudder that was greater than most of his trembles, closing his sockets as he spoke.  The hands that clenched the gloved one tightened for just a moment, and for a second, it almost felt as though he would never let go. “I won’t hurt you. Never again.”

Flashes of the dust and purple bones in the alleyway immediately came to Papyrus’ mind. He hated the mere thought of the event, but he couldn’t shake it. He shivered for a second there, like humans would if they were cold. The hands squeezed tighter around his. “I promise. Never again.” With that said and done, he let go. His grin twitched slightly as he looked up at his not-brother with a sincere expression not even Sans could pull off. “So. What time should there?”

Papyrus had to stop for only a moment, before his usual ardent demeanor took over from there.

“I’d say a good fifteen minutes before six!” he suggested, moving away and once again picking up the pot. “Undyne adores punctuality, after all!” The other took a moment to glance at the wall. “Well that’s a good few hours away,” Dust pointed out, slowly leaning on the wall with his hands deep in his pockets. “What will you do until then? Watch some Mettaton?”

“Well, not exactly,” Papyrus responded, backing over to the fridge. “I was rather hoping…”

“Yeah?” the tired monster rasped, heavily lidded sockets raising some in mild interest.

“I was hoping you could teach me how to make stew for lunch?” Papyrus quickly requested, opening up the fridge and suddenly heaving out armfuls of ingredients, some of them not needing to be anywhere near a stew. Dust blinked in subtle surprise, before letting out a wheezing chuckle and going over to assist. He gently pulled away some of the various food and put them back into the fridge. “Okay, so for beef stew, you’re going to need this meat here; specifically solid. Ground beef won’t do with stew like it does with spaghetti. You also don’t need this much butter.”

Papyrus excitedly grabbed his pot and placed t onto the stove, feeling flicker of excitement welling up to replace his previous troublesome mood that had been so ungraciously introduced. All he could feel now was his own eagerness to spend some more time with Dust.

* * *

 

“Remember, wait until you make dinner, and  _then_  ask him,” Alphys reminded her. “After dinner. Got it. I mean, I doubt he has anything to do with all of this, if anything,” Undyne spoke into her phone, making sure she had all of the ingredients within the pantry. “Have you told Sans yet?” Alphys gave a soft hum of denial. “Not yet, but if something is going on, we may have to tell him. I’m afraid he’ll be cross with me if I don’t,” her wife replied, her tone hushed as if someone was listening in on her. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t hurt Papyrus’ feelings. Even if he is somehow involved, I don’t think he’s doing it willingly.”

That’s when a knock sounded at her door. “You got it, Alph. Look, Paps is here. I’ll call you afterwards, kay?”

“A-alright. I love you!”

“Love you, too, babe. See ya.” 

Hanging up, she strode over to the door and opened it up with a grin. “Hey, Paps! Ready for your super special, one-on-one training session?” Undyne grinned, her hands placed firmly on her hips as she spoke. 

“Of course!” Papyrus replied, his arm around his favorite pot as he spoke with the excitement that she had frankly missed all this time. "Come on in, ya big goof," she laughed, beckoning him inside the house. The skeleton proved to be more than eager, running in and placing his favorite pot on his favorite spot on the stove. Luckily (and unfortunately for them), the stove was electric; it wouldn't be setting fires any time soon. She watched him for a moment before turning to shut the door. However, she couldn't help it when something caught her lone eye.

"Hey Sans!" she called, waving an arm to catch the skeleton's attention. "What gives? I thought you were supposed to be with Alphys or something!" The smaller monster didn't even acknowledge her presence as he kept walking, only flinching slightly at the sound. He was walking away from the house; he must have just come to drop Papyrus off and get on with meeting the Royal Scientist. She called out to him one more time, but still got no response. He disappeared behind a tree, and soon enough, he was nowhere to be found.

Undyne just grimaced, closing the door after taking one last scan around. "Weirdo," she shrugged, shaking the strange happening off as one of the prankster's more elaborate jokes. She didn't really get it, but he always did have a weird sense of humor. She just chalked it up to Sans being Sans and got on with the show.

She entered the kitchen, rubbing her hands with a grin. Despite her ulterior motives, she still found herself excited to practice with her best bud after almost a year of time off from each other. "So... Who's ready to make some delicious frickin' food?"


End file.
